


GRAYVERSE

by xofebruary



Series: Grayverse [1]
Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Asshole!Gerard, Fluff, Frerard, M/M, Tragedy, cas!frank, color!verse, don't worry gerard isn't dean he's still gerard, frank is literally cas but it's okay because it's really cute, gray!verse, i'm waffling now i'm sorry okay i'll shut up, im so sorry this is a frerard yes but it's basically just a destiel, it's really weird but just go with it, mikey can be a little like sam though at times, okay just enjoy the story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-30
Updated: 2014-09-10
Packaged: 2018-01-27 14:43:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 34
Words: 72,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1714361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xofebruary/pseuds/xofebruary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>dont read this its shit i only keep it here cus i got lots of kudos lmao</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. DREAMING OF BLOOD.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was heavily inspired by Grey - Valyria. While the story line couldn't be more from different, the color concept is taken soley from this fic. Credit goes to Valyria.

PROLOGUE - DREAMING OF BLOOD.  
   
Gerard had always been mostly curious about red.  
   
He'd decided already at six years old, that it was his favorite color. His mother had laughed and called him silly, because the blood that was smudged against his scraped up knee was only a dark shade of gray to his eyes. She wore a painful expression as she peeled back the plastic of a band-aid, before pressing it to her son's graze - a product of him falling from his bike. Despite his young age, Gerard knew not to ask about why she was sad.  
   
"You'll learn about it all at school," she had told him before, but that wasn't what Gerard wanted to know. He'd grown up with no vision of his father, and always pleaded his mother to tell him about the man. He wanted to know everything - about the colors, the feelings, about how it was possible for a black and white world to suddenly be painted just from just one glance of your soul mate.  
   
Seventeen years later, and Gerard was scared that he would never find out.  
   
It was dull. The world around him had no contrast, no lust - no creativity. It lacked the art he was so frequently told about. Day after day locked up in his basement, he'd draw. He'd wonder just how it was possible for his sketches to become a mixture of blue and yellow and red and green. He just couldn't understand how anything other than gray could exist.  
   
Yet he longed for it.  
   
Everyone did. It was a mystery within the world, something that many had found but could never explain. "Picture a fire." Mikey had told him. "Think of how warm it is; think of how it burns your skin if you get too close. That's heat - it's red. Well, sort of. It's yellow, red, orange and white. All at the same time."  
   
Needless to say, Gerard didn't have a clue of how to picture what his younger brother had attempted to teach him. He tried so hard; he thought he could be the miracle that dreamt up colors on nothing but imagination. Gerard knew he was a creative person, but it was impossible. "You'll just have to wait for the right girl. You'll see then. You'll understand and oh - Gerard. You'll love it. It's beautiful." Mikey always smiled and gazed into the distance when he spoke of color, and his undying love for Alicia. Gerard was jealous, and it was hard to hide.  
   
Maybe that was the reason he spent so much time at parties and gigs - he wanted to meet her. This is what he told himself, anyway. It's what everyone told themselves. In reality however, Gerard knew that it was just for the alcohol. He liked to get drunk. His life was a mess, and screwing his brain up seemed to help. It took away the edge and left him feeling good for a change.  
   
That was all he did for the better part of two years. He'd drink, he'd party, he'd lock himself in his basement, and he'd draw. The anti-depressants didn't help much, and people often got him confused for someone who had lost their partner. It made sense - the constant complaints about the washed out grays and the pleading for contrast - he sounded like he'd lived it once, but it had all disappeared. Just like what his mother had lived through.  
   
"Your hair is brown. You have hazel eyes - that's a mixture of all the colors. Some green, some yellow, some brown and a splash of blue. Most people only have one. That makes you special, Gerard." His mother had long-forgotten his hazel eyes, but she could still dream of them. Ever since his dad had died, everything had been black and white again for her. "It's hard. Some say it's easier to never experience it, because if it's all taken away then you'll feel like there is nothing to live for." Because of his fascination for art, this made Gerard feel like crap on a colossal level. Everyone had mixed opinions on the rainbow, and Gerard hadn't even seen it yet.  
   
When he met Lindsey at nineteen years old, he thought he was in love. It had everything - warmth, happiness, safety... but there were no colors. He wished they were there. All he wanted was to wake up and see the blue sky, with Lindsey at his side. He could have been happy with her, and Gerard knew this. Lindsey didn't care whether the grass was green or purple, she just wanted to be with him. She called it true love. Gerard was desperate to agree with her, but-  
   
He just had to throw it all away.    
   
He was selfish, and too curious for his own good. Art had gotten in the way and Gerard decided that he simply needed it in his life. He chose it over the most beautiful girl he had ever known, and four years later, he is still living in a world without it's secret.  
   
CHAPTER ONE - SEEING RED.  
   
Gerard is drunk, and fuck - does he know it.  
   
He's perfectly aware that being encouraged by Bert McCracken to down another shot is a ridiculous situation to get himself caught up in, but he doesn't care. Instead of laughing and politely tell him him to fuck off, he narrows his eyes and nods in determination. He stupidly takes another glass, staring at Bert who does the same. Both boys throw the liquids down their throats, and an eruption of cheers surround them. Gerard grins, a heavy buzz pulsing through his veins. "You think you can take another?" he says loudly, slurring whilst trying to remain seated.  
   
Bert pulls a face that Gerard finds hilarious, before he lifts his shoulders with an exaggerated shrug. "I dunno - maybe? Yea-no. I think I'll be sick in you."  
   
Gerard is too drunk to realize how the sentence that just dribbled from Bert's lips made absolutely no sense. So, he points to the glass. "Drink another and I'll give you my guitar if you don't throw up." After saying this, he instantly feels regret sink into his stomach. He blinks once, then tries to ignore it. A bet is a bet.    
   
Besides, Gerard sucks at guitar. Bert licks his lips slowly. "And if I puke?"  
   
The oldest of the two takes a moment to think. "I get to kiss you - after you brush your teeth."  
   
Around them, the entire room sparks up with a collection of 'ooh!'s and 'aah!'s. Bert smirks, before winking flirtatiously at Gerard. "Maybe you'll see pink when our lips meet then, baby."  
   
"It is so on."  
   
Gerard watches Bert as he drags a glass across the bar, his movement slow and lagging. When the shot touches his lips and he swallows, everyone stares in wonder. For a moment, Bert just scrunches his face up, before he suddenly turns a paler shade of gray. "Get me a bucket," he blurts out, before doubling over and spewing up his dinner into an abandoned handbag to his immediate left.  
   
Everyone cheers.  
   
Gerard rides along with the buzzing excitement of the room, smiling lazily as he runs a hand through his dirty hair. Today is one of those days where he just feels great. He feels happy and oblivious. The gray scale around him is cheerful and filled with warmth, making him feel safe around his friends.  
   
Or rather, Bert's friends. Gerard has never actually met any of these guys, except his drinking partner for the night. He doesn't really process this, because he feels better than he has in a long time. That's all that matters to him. It's easier to just give in and float along with what ever is in front of his eyes. It's so much less painful than those days working for the CN. Deadline after deadline, it was killing him. More importantly, it was killing his art; holding him back. He had quit that job, and maybe he's unemployed and living in his parent's basement now, but he'll figure something out. He just needs more time.  
   
He gets his kiss; a sloppy press of Bert's lips to his own. When he pulls away and opens his eyes, he feels disappointed at the lack of pink staining his vision, but he keeps smiling. That's all he tells himself these days: keep smiling. Hell, it's no secret that he's hitting depression hard, but if he can fake it enough, maybe it'll become real. One day, he'll be able to smile without feeling some other emotion nagging away at him.  
   
That'll be the day where the sky is blue and the grass is green.  
   
Gerard's thoughts are suddenly lined with sarcasm, and he shakes his head at his own skeptical comments. He can be happy. He just needs to finish Umbrella Academy, and then he'll be more than happy. He'll be famous. He'll be a fucking millionaire.  
   
Until then, he'll do what he does best. Get drunk.  
   
"Who're the band playing they sound fucking radical, man!" Gerard's face is filled with a grin, and his tone is cheerful as he practically yells into Bert's ear.  
   
"I don't know but they're fucking fags," Bert grunts back. "See the bassist? My girlfriend slept with him."  
   
Gerard leans into Bert, his body warm against his. "Did she say she saw pink?"    
   
"No, she saw red. The red of that dick's blood after I beat the crap out of him."  
   
The shorter man lets out a small laugh, his jaw moving against Bert's shoulder. It feels nice to rest his head against. He likes Bert. Gerard would have loved for him to have been the one, but everything is still black and white. Maybe colors don't even exist. Maybe everyone just makes them up to piss all the lonely people off. "Do you think I'm going to die in gray scale?" Gerard asks, his body slowly moving against Bert's, as if they are dancing at a high school prom.  
   
He scratches at an itch on his head. "I think this whole color shit is over-rated. I don't get why you're so obsessed with it," Bert says, making Gerard's heart ache slightly.  
   
"I like art," he points out. "And color is art. It's hard to be an artist when you're limited to only a few thousand shades of gray. It gets boring."  
   
Bert pulls Gerard slightly closer. "But how can it be boring if you don't know anything else? I couldn't imagine the world with all fancy yellow and stuff." He starts to stroke his hair, and Gerard realizes that Bert is acting incredibly out of character.  
   
"What's up with you tonight? You're acting all cute." Gerard looks up and smiles.  
   
Bert's eyes turn hazy. "I don't know, man. I'm drunk. I'm a happy drunk."  
   
"Just don't start growing a vagina and asking me to paint your nails, okay?"  
   
"What if I wanna be a chick?"  
   
Gerard rolls his eyes.    
   
It's about an hour later that Gerard decides he needs to head home. His car is parked outside, but he can't drive in this state. After pacing up and down the parking lot for ten minutes, he remembers his cell phone. He tries to turn the out-dated piece of crap on, but the screen remains black. The batteries must be dead.  
   
Which in turn means he can't call Mikey, which means he can't get picked up.  
   
He throws a worried glance at his silver car. The drive isn't long. Just seven minutes or so down the road, and it's not as if he'd be on a motorway. Gerard purses his lips, wondering what he should do. He feels goose bumps rising on his arms and decides to get in the car, seeking warmth from the freezing New Jersey night. He should just take himself back. The alcohol buzz has gone down, and he feels fairly confident that he won't swerve from the road and drive into an orphanage. It's less than ten minutes. He'll be fine. He nods once, trying to reassure himself that he's perfectly sober. He starts the car up and takes a left from the initial road, so that he can drive down the secluded lane hidden by the trees. No one goes down there, so he'll only have himself to kill.  
   
For some reason, Gerard doesn't feel too bad about that.  
   
It's dark, and the dim grays being washed out from the streetlights do nothing to aid Gerard as he squints through the night. He'll never tell Ray or Mikey that he did this. They would kill him. Call him suicidal. His brother and best friend often tend to get worked up about Gerard doing anything even remotely dangerous. It's no wonder they hate him hanging out with Bert. He lets out a sigh as he drives, and yawns.    
   
As soon as he gets home, Gerard decides that he's going to collapse on his bed and go to sleep. A quick glance at the time on his radio tells him that it's nearly 4 AM, which explains why his eyes feel so heavy. With no adrenaline left over from being at the party, Gerard feels himself start to slip under. Just as his chin touches his chest, he jerks back up, panicking and suddenly spinning the car out of control. He comes speeding out of the lane, slamming his foot down on the brake, but he feels something slam into him before the screeching of the tyres comes to a stop.  
   
When everything is still, Gerard takes a minute to breathe. Did he hit something? Someone? He blinks, trying to think of what he had slammed into. God - what if that was a person? A child?  
   
"Fuck," Gerard curses, using his trembling hands to get out of the car. His eyes flick around the scene, desperate to not find a body on the road. He feels his heart stop for a moment when he notices the black lump just a few meters away. His pulse quickens, and he has to internally scream at himself in order to start moving again. When he does, he runs forward.  
   
It's a body - a boy. Gerard shakes his head, terrified as he cups his the teenager's face. Fuck, what has he done? Everything is moving so fast he feels dizzy. He bites his lip, and feels something wet cover his thumb. He's bleeding. His head is slick with the liquid, telling Gerard that he's probably dead.  
   
Breathing erratic, Gerard pulls the boy up into his lap, so that the streetlight can help him inspect the wound. He's still not thinking - his mind a mess of panic and guilt. He lifts a hand to cover his mouth, but stops midway.  
   
Red.  
   
Gerard can see red.  
 


	2. CHAPTER TWO - JUST TWO MEN AS GOD HAD MADE US.

| Everything blinds him inside the hospital. Flashing lights flood his head, and his eyes hurt from adjusting to the sudden contrast that surrounds him. Everyone is in panic, making it harder for Gerard to concentrate on following the frenzied doctors into the surgery room. They bark orders at each other, different numbers and medical terms that Gerard prays are good in this situation. He doesn't have time to become disorientated by this new world, and only battles past the nurses and doctors. "Sir, you can't come in here," one of them tries to tell him, but Gerard doesn't care. He could have just murdered fuck - his soul mate? - Gerard doesn't even know if there is a technical term for this kind of bond. He pushes it from his mind, arguing with the authority before him.   
   
"You don't understand," he pleads, desperation thick in his voice. "I need to see him - I just, if he dies i-it's my fault." But no matter how much he begs and attempts to reason with them, the doctors push him back and he's forced to wait in a blindingly white room.   
   
It's calmer in here. For the first time in the last half hour, he has a chance to let his mind catch up with what is happening.   
   
Colors.   
   
They're everywhere - Mikey was right. It is beautiful, but today they are tragic. In a matter of minutes, everything could be washed out to gray and it'd be his fault. He looks up. The lights on the ceiling are a dim orange. When he looks back down, he can see red again. His hands. He has to avert his gaze, feeling guilt and terror attack him. For the better part of the next fifteen minutes, his eyes dart around the room, taking note of everything that is different. Not only is the world filled with color, but it is also filled with vibrance. It's brighter. It hurts Gerard's eyes, and he's not sure how he'll ever get used to the new stains that touch his vision.   
   
When Mikey appears, Gerard chokes on a slight sob.    
   
Mikey's eyes are green. Dark green. With brown, and gray and yellow. Hazel, as his mother had told him.    
   
He's seeing his brother in a whole new light, and it's a strange and confusing experience. His hair is a filthy blonde, and the chain around his neck is gold. Gerard gapes at first, staring. Mikey notices that his brother is unsettled the moment he catches first sight of him and rushes over. He drops to his knees and takes Gerard's hands. "Gee," he says, his tone worried.    
   
"Mikes," Gerard replies, captivated by the flushed pinks of Mikey's cheeks. "Mikes, I think I killed him."   
   
Mikey shakes his head, squeezing Gerard's hands. "Don't think like that. We don't know what's happened, and it isn't your fault. Let's just wait, 'kay?"   
   
It's hard, but Gerard nods. "'Kay."   
   
He doesn't plan on telling Mikey that his shirt is blue. Gerard had subconsciously decided the minute he saw red that he wasn't going to speak a word of it. Not to Mikey, not to Ray. It'll be easier. Especially if this boy dies - then everything will go back to normal. Gerard will just have to live with the guilt for the rest of his life.   
   
But he can't. It's cliched and horrible to think - but Gerard can feel something strong towards this boy. He wouldn't call it love, more like responsibility. Hell, Gerard isn't even into guys. But it's still there. Some kind of twisted, sick, profound bond. He doesn't even know how old this kid is - eighteen at most? That's a five year age difference. He gulps, nervous and scared. Mikey doesn't say another word to him. They just sit side by side, Mikey keeping a firm grip on Gerard's shoulder. It looks like a comforting gesture, but it feels more as if Mikey is scared that if he lets go, his brother will run away. Like he's trying to slip out of yet just another problem.   
   
He isn't going to do that. Gerard knows that it's wrong, and is fully aware that he has to sit this out. He's seeing fucking colors everywhere, so he knows he has to stay.   
   
He wonders - what will this boy even think of him?   
   
Gerard had ran him over. The potential of his death still hangs in the air, and surely he would hate Gerard for it. That's if he even survives. However, there is the bond; the sickeningly warm feeling building up in his stomach. That in itself means something, and Gerard isn't sure what he'll do when he sees him.   
   
So, he breathes.   
   
Gerard counts each inhale and exhale of his own lungs, his eyes closed as he tries to block any unwanted thoughts out.  It's just a matter of time until either the colors fade away, or a doctor comes to inform them of good news. It's another twenty minutes until this is set into place.   
   
"He's stable." Gerard and Mikey both glance up, breathing in synch as they await more details. The doctor seems uncomfortable, but he also looks somewhat relieved. "He's also conscious, but we'd prefer it if you waited until after some more tests before you visit him."   
   
Gerard blinks. "What does... what does that mean? Tests? What tests?"   
   
The doctor draws in a shaky breath, preparing his explanation. "We... believe he may be suffering from amnesia. The blow he took to his head was enough to give him major brain damage, but we think memory loss is the most he's dealing with. Luckily, this means that he'll mostly be fine. But we also believe that he won't be able to recover details of his life, and without any identity or any way of knowing who is or where he's from... it's going to be difficult deciding where he is sent."   
   
Mikey and Gerard both find themselves reeling in discomfort from this new information. The oldest of the Way brothers is the first to speak. "How... bad is it? Does he remember anything? Anything at all...?"   
   
"I'm afraid not. It's a complicated matter to discuss." The doctor moves forward to take a seat in front of them. Mikey moves out of the way slightly, but keeps his grip on Gerard in place. The doctor begins to continue. "When a person suffers amnesia, it can be long-term or short-term. In this boy's case, his brain scans indicate that it will be life long. In turn, this means he will likely never remember anything from before the accident other than brief snippets. Strong memories might break though, but only in tiny fragments. I assume you are familiar with how it affects things such as common knowledge, things they've learned?"   
   
Gerard nods. The doctor is making it rather simple, and not over-complicating things. "They only lose memories, right? They know what cars and stuff are. Like, it leaves them with their factory settings?"   
   
The doctor wears a solemn expression, and leans forwards slightly. "You're mostly correct, but this boy's case may be different. He doesn't understand some simple concepts - such as color. He acknowledges that he can see more than gray scale, but thinks that this is normal. He has no understanding whatsoever about the process of mating."   
   
Mating, Gerard thinks. He makes it sound like they're nothing but apes.   
   
Mikey clears his throat. "So, that must be something to work with, right? If he's bonded with someone, then surely that person is waiting for him. We could put him on a missing persons list, and wait for someone to give him an identity." Gerard feels shivers run down his spine, and he closes his eyes.   
   
"Yes, you're right - but this boy should be able to identify the means of concept. It raises certain questions about his background and past."    
   
"What are you trying to say?" Gerard squints, frowning in confusion.   
   
A sigh falls from the doctor's lips. "It means he may not have ever learned about these things in the first place. At his age, he should have in depth knowledge, yet he knows none of it. We'll run more tests and keep you updated." He gives them both a wry smile before standing up, and walking back in the direction of the surgery room. Gerard falls back against his seat, eyes closed with exhaustion.   
   
//   
   
The drive home is silent.   
   
Mikey knows that Gerard is hurting, and that his brother is being dragged through Hell and back. What he doesn't know, is the reason behind Gerard's constant squinting. Mikey doesn't even think about why his eyes are wary of bright lights, and why he keeps his gaze settled anywhere but the dried blood on his hands and shirt. He assumes it comes down the fact he just nearly killed a boy.   
   
Neither of them speak, and Gerard only waves a hand of dismissal at his brother before heading down to his room. He needs to be alone - he needs to be able to think, dammit. The thought of nearly-killing his potential soul mate is something he can't just go to sleep and forget about. No, Gerard for one, is a masochist. He needs to spend time drowning in self pity and guilt. After some thought, he decides that the temptation of alcohol is something  he might as well resist. He'd already been drunk once tonight, and that certainly didn't end well. Chewing his lip, Gerard thinks to himself that he might just never drink again.   
   
Before letting himself fall feebly into bed, Gerard casts a quick glance at his sketchpad. It's lying open at his desk, the yellow of the dim lamp illuminating his art. He'd gotten what he wanted, right? Color. For his art.   
   
Yet now he feels like it really is over-rated. If killing someone is the price, then Gerard would rather throw it all away and live his black and white days all over again. He falls asleep with this thought in his head, praying that somehow, everything works out.   
   
//   
   
Today he's back at the hospital. With no Mikey to accompany him, Gerard walks up the rain beaten path, and pushes a hand against the entrance. Outside was dull, but inside is a whole new world. However, he's seen it all before. It had been rushed and filled with the stench of blood, but today is less of a blur. Unsure of where to go, Gerard finds himself nervous, anxious to find out where the boy is being kept. He approaches the front desk, chewing his bottom lip.    
   
"Sir?" A female nurse turns to him from behind the counter. "May I help you?"   
   
Her eyes are brown and her hair is red. Gerard nods gingerly. "Ah, yeah. The amnesia patient? I'm... the ah, one who knocked him down."   
   
She gives him a look of judgment, her eyes filled with disapproval. Gerard feels more guilt swim to his stomach. "Mr Way, right? If you'd just sign this, please." Her voice is dripping with distaste towards Gerard. She slides a clipboard towards him, a pen by it's side. Shaking, Gerard scribbles his name and signature down, before looking back up. "He's in Ward 4, room 12. Visiting hours end at 6:00 PM."   
   
Gerard doesn't stick around to process anything other than the details of where the boy is staying. As he walks, his pulse deepens the closer he gets to the designated room. The bright walls around him begin to cave in, and he shakes his head trying to keep himself level. Fuck, he's never felt like this before. Not even with Lindsey. He thinks it's because he understands now. Before seeing red, Gerard had treated the idea of 'love at first  sight' with little respect. He was only in for the art. However, he can feel something brewing inside his guts, making him feel like a love sick sixteen year old girl. It makes him feel disgusting. But at the same time, it's oh-so-pleasurable.   
   
Thinking about it, Gerard has no idea what to expect when he walks in. Will it be like in the movies, where they take one look at each other then melt in an embrace? He cringes at the thought. Like the doctor had told him; this kid doesn't even understand things like 'color'. What if he's nothing but a drooling mess because of Gerard's reckless driving? What if he can't even speak? More guilt and panic attacks him as he finds the room.   
   
Gerard mutters a brief, reassuring message to himself before stepping inside. Face taut and limbs stiff, Gerard's eyes settle on the small body sitting on the bed.   
   
He's fucking tiny, is Gerard's initial thought. Not child-like, but short. His hair is a crazy black mess, cropped badly and sticking out from under his bandages. It's about an inch or so shorter than Gerard's, and much cleaner as it shines with a healthy vibrance under the light that floods through the window. Where his face shows evidence of his age, it also holds a kind of innocence. Renewed innocence. Big brown eyes and perfectly arched eyebrows, Gerard finds his lip twitching from the sight in front of him. Sure, his soul mate isn't a chick, but with a decent wig and some of his mom's make-up, Gerard is sure he could turn this guy into a babe.   
   
Another highlight is that he doesn't appear to be a drooling mess. Instead of being vegetated, he talks animatedly to the nurse beside him, his face pulled into a confused frown. Gerard doesn't do anything but linger in the doorway, staring in wonder at the boy. It's only a matter of time until a nurse catches his eye, and taps her patient on the shoulder before pointing straight at Gerard. He gulps, feeling like the victim inside a bad romantic comedy. The nurse then murmurs something, and walks out of the room. The two boys are left staring at each other, both equally lost for words.    
   
Gerard clears his throat. "I'm Gerard."   
   
With a tilt of his head, the boy's eyebrows crease together slightly more. "My name is Frank."   
   
A brief silence passes between them, before Gerard steps forwards. He lets out a small huff. "I thought you uh, had amnesia? You don't know your name?"   
   
The boy - Frank - only stares, his eyes narrowed. "I saw a film last night about a man wearing a rabbit mask. He was called Frank. I liked Frank, and I like the name Frank. So I decided my name could also be Frank."   
   
Gerard is left feeling slightly bewildered, but amused all the same. "Donnie Darko?" He lets his mouth pull into a small smile. "I love that film."   
   
A quick change in subject swiftly follows. "So who are you, and what do you want?" Frank's face changes slightly, and his tone becomes one of warning. "Are you here to come tell me more about colors? Because I'm slightly tired of hearing about them."   
   
He doesn't know that Gerard is the one who landed him in this place.   
   
Shuffling closer, Gerard shakes his head. He glances at the bed and gestures towards it, silently asking Frank's permission to sit down. The younger boy just stares. Gerard closes his eyes and draws in another sharp breath. "Can I sit down?" he asks after another prolonged silence.   
   
After gaining a stern nod of approval, Gerard flashes him a forced smile, before taking up the far end of the bed. "Are you here to teach me about colors?" Frank asks again, his voice thick with a serious underlining.   
   
Gerard has to try and look anywhere but Frank's eyes, because fuck - are they chocolate. After losing himself for a small moment, he snaps back into reality with a means to answer Frank's question. "What? No. That sounds ridiculous - look, I'm Gerard."   
   
"You already said that."   
   
The older man feels a wave of impatience pass through him. "No," he starts, trying to explain what he means. "I'm Gerard. You know, the whole.... thing? Does it not mean anything to you? At all?" He's hopelessly stammering, tripping over his own words.   
   
Frank shakes his head. "You're a patient here, aren't you?"   
   
A blink of confusion, then Gerard frowns. "No, I - why would you think I'm a patient?" He sits back, attempting to figure out what this boy is trying to imply.   
   
"I was... warned by a nurse earlier. Patients in this ward tend to wander around. She said they might be somewhat delusional." Frank is then staring at Gerard with earnest in his eyes. "You should probably return quickly. She said she'd give anyone she caught out of their room a good... spanking. Although I believe such a punishment to be illegal, that sounds painful."   
   
If it had come from anyone else's mouth, Gerard would barely think twice about that comment. Something about Frank makes it seem ridiculous. Maybe it's his radiating purity, or the fact that he seems stone-faced, but he's about as innocent as a puppy. Either way, Gerard finds himself at a loss for words once again.   
   
"Gerard."   
   
Again, the older man is snapped back into reality by Frank's smooth, but fairly deep voice. Gerard raises his eyebrows, noticing that Frank has moved closer to him. Too close. "Uh, yes? No. Dude, I'm not a freaking patient. I'm a visitor, I came to see you."   
   
Frank does the face that Gerard can feel himself getting used to. A mix of confusion and curiosity. A deep frown that knots his eyebrows together as his eyes peer up, big and warm. Brown. "Why would you want to come see me, Gerard?"   
   
"Because I..." Gerard starts to speak, but realizes that he has no idea what he's supposed to respond with. It's not that he can just claim his undying love for the boy all of a sudden, demanding they get married. Frank doesn't understand what's happening.   
   
But Gerard can feel it now. It's settling in. At first he'd been skeptical at the idea of seeing someone and just bending for them, but now he can feel it. But he can't have it. It's leaving him breathless, confused and terrified, and he doesn't know what to do. He doesn't know how to feel. Even worse, Gerard is having doubts about Frank feeling anything back.    
   
He closes his eyes, trying to find a second of clarity before looking back at the raven haired boy. "I just... wanted to talk. I - Frank. Can we be friends?" Gerard gives him a smile in his attempt to further something in their relationship, and even extends his hand. Frank stares, clueless as ever.   
   
"You want to be friends," he states, his voice dropping down a tone. "I think I'd like that, Gerard."   
   
Hearing his own name roll from Frank's lips makes Gerard shudder, and he pushes his hand out slightly further. Frank looks down at it. Still staring, he pokes at Gerard's index finger then glances back up into his eyes. "You take it, Frank," Gerard tells him. "And you shake it."   
   
With another tilt of his head, Frank continues to act confused. "Why would I shake your hand? I believe you said we were friends. Shaking hands is something of a formality."   
   
Gerard rolls his eyes and grabs Frank's hand, before squeezing tightly. He decides to ignore Frank's confusion, and his head feels hazy all of a sudden. "Yeah," he breathes. "We're friends."  
---  
  
 


	3. CHAPTER THREE - MEN ARE ALL THE SAME.

"What do you mean you went to go see him? Without me?"   
   
Mikey leans across the kitchen counter, a disturbed look of irritation and disbelief set hard into his face. Gerard shuffles his weight, folding his arms across his chest. He hates having to be like this around his brother. Secretive. Evasive. It can hardly be helped though, even if Gerard doesn't want to act this way. But for Christ's sake - Mikey's shirt is pink. "Does it matter?" He stares at his younger brother, equally pissed off. They both hold a strong glare together for a moment, before Gerard opens his mouth again. "I wanted to see if he was okay, is that a crime?"   
   
A low growl threatens to trip from Mikey's lips. "You could have at least told me."   
   
Gerard scoffs, shaking his head. "We are not talking about this," he waves a hand, as if he can just flick his brother away. "Last time I checked, I was to blame for this. It's my fault, Mikey. I'm trying to do something about it."   
   
"Just because you nearly killed that kid doesn't mean you have to do this alone!" Mikey raises his voice, a small hint of sincerity in his clearly agitated tone. He pinches the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes. "Look - Gerard. We're supposed to look out for each other. Right? That's what you told me after Grandma died. So let me help, please."   
   
The younger Way stops, waiting for Gerard's reply. A ghost of 'we don't talk about Grandma' hangs in the air, but when Gerard sterns his gaze, the threat runs scarse.   
   
"Frank," Gerard murmurs. Mikey opens his mouth to say something, but stops. A sigh falls from Gerard's tired face. "His name is Frank."   
   
Mikey frowns. "Like, Donnie Darko Frank?"   
   
For a moment, Gerard gives Mikey a slight nod of approval. Then, he casts his eyes elsewhere and stares at the ground, before flickering back up to Mikey's framed hazel orbs. "Look, that's not the point." Again, Gerard dismisses Mikey's words and the atmosphere grows tense. "He's my friend."   
   
A quick pause. Mikey looks confused. "Friend?" He tries the word, but figures it tastes like venom. "Gerard, this isn't a chick-flick. You don't just run a guy over and then-"   
   
"And then what, Mikey?" Gerard leans forward, cutting him off. "See fucking rainbows and decide you're in love? I said he's my friend, Mikes. Not my fucking wife."   
   
With a fed up sigh, Gerard leaves it at that. He feels exasperated, wanting nothing more than to sleep. Mikey is left on his own in the kitchen, and Gerard decides that he'll retreat to his room until the storm blows over.   
   
He finds a pack of cigarettes, and pulls one out before daintily pushing it between his lips. After scavenging his pockets for a lighter, Gerard realizes that he hasn't had a smoke since he'd seen red. It's a surprise to him that he's managed to go so long without the familiar rush of nicotine scraping down his throat. Caffeine is a whole different story.   
   
A push of his thumb, and the flame sparks into life. A swirl of orange, yellow and blue. Gerard finds himself staring. He appears amazed, even entranced by the dancing flicker of light, lost in it's radiance until his thumb becomes sore and he accidently lets it go out. "Fuck," he whispers, and doesn't hesitate as he sparks it back up. Instead of sitting back and enjoying the scenery, he brings it to the tip of his cigarette and feels the burn reach his lips on the initial inhale.   
   
This was just one new experience of many. Gerard is still adjusting to the new sights, and like a child, he manages to become fascinated by even the smallest of things. He realizes that he never wants to lose this new view on the world, and knows what he has to do to protect it. It's simple; just make sure that idiot Frank doesn't get himself killed. If he's alive, then so are the colors.   
   
With this thought in his head, for the second time in two days, Gerard casts a weary eye to his desk. Despite this new supposed 'inspiration', he can't draw. He can't paint. Maybe it's just a quick phase, but Gerard is at a creative dead-end. Earlier that day he had tried to sketch a quick character profile of Vanya, but found that the violin girl was lacking personality within the drawing that Gerard would usually manage to give to his creations. With a blunt sigh, he lets himself collapse onto his bed as he tries to close his eyes; a pathetic attempt to quickly drift off.    
   
It doesn't work, and Gerard is left with his head buzzing and his stomach twisting. He can't seem to stop thinking. No matter what he does or how he tries to occupy himself, it's always there. Nagging away at him. Urging him to go back to the hospital.   
   
But visitor hours are over now, and it would only aggravate Mikey further. Gerard has no idea if Frank still wants to see him, but they'd both decided they were friends, right? He can only hope that the strange boy understood what he'd even meant.    
   
Bored, Gerard starts to think about the mystery surrounding Frank's past. The doctor had hinted that the young teen had never been taught things of simple nature, but when Gerard had met him, he seemed to be a smart kid. In his own way, of course. He'd frowned and been confused at a simple handshake, yet he appeared intellectual within how he spoke. Maybe the doctor was wrong. Maybe Frank was just a normal kid who'd gotten caught up in an accident, and amnesia is now stubbing his brain from being able to work properly.   
   
After another long hour, Gerard realizes that he misses Frank. This stupid bond that Gerard doesn't even necessarily want, is making him feel pathetic. It makes him feel whiny, clingy, maybe even desperate. His thoughts still haven't managed to cross from the line of innocent, to lustful though. This makes him feel slightly more comfortable, as it feels more like he is supposed to protect Frank, rather than fuck him senseless into the side of his car.   
   
With another resignated sigh, Gerard rolls over and closes his eyes again. He thinks about the coffee he gets to drink when he wakes up in the morning, and falls asleep with a smile on his face.   
   
//   
   
He still dreams in black and white.   
   
Gerard is in a wasteland. A long dirt road winds through it, leading up to a small gray church in the midst of the desert. The air shimmers, melting before Gerard's eyes. It bends around the building, creating the illusion of water surrounding it. He can't move. Everything feels so surreal, and Gerard wonders if it is supposed to hold any form of significance. It feels pointless. After what feels like only a few minutes of burning in this place, Gerard opens his eyes and finds himself in his dark, tiny room. He finds his cell phone and recognizes that it's nearly 11 AM. Without sparing a second thought to think about what he had just imagined, he jogs upstairs and starts the coffee machine.   
   
As he'd promised himself last night, he makes the perfect brew and takes it back down to his room. He drinks. He showers. He gets dressed. He shaves.   
   
Something about yesterday puts a distinct bounce in Gerard's step. He's smiling and he seems genuinely happy, which freaks Mikey out as his brother is completely sober. After the younger brother put up with Gerard's nauseous cheerful attitude for about an hour, he decided to confront him.   
   
"I'm just in a good mood, Mikes," Gerard replies as Mikey interrogates him over a late lunch.    
   
"But you just... nearly killed a guy," Mikey decides to point out, but Gerard only rolls his eyes and chuckles.   
   
Mikey had expected him to snap under that. "Sure, I nearly killed someone," Gerard drawls in a casual tone, hand gestures and all. "But I've made peace with it. We're friends, Mikey. Me and Frank got along real well when I saw him yesterday. I'm thinking of going back tomorrow."   
   
It's the smug, dream-like smile that Gerard has plastered to his face that Mikey scowls at. Maybe Gerard is having some kind of an epiphany over this. He hasn't touched a drop of alcohol, and it didn't take much for Mikey to work out that the bitter liquid had been the root of all of this. Maybe Gerard is changing. Maybe it is for the better.   
   
Still, he wears a frown and ends up slumping off into his room.   
   
Gerard finds himself lonely without his brother nagging at him, and picks up the phone to call Ray. He thinks they can get together over some pizza and play some video games for a few hours. Giddy with some kind of unrecognizable excitement, he fidgets after Ray says that he'll be over at six, and Gerard is left waiting in anticipation. Once he hears a knock at the door, he jumps up and lets his best friend in.   
   
"So I heard about you running some kid over?" Ray remarks, lifting an eyebrow as Gerard leads him into the living room. He kicks over a pile of trash on the way, and tries to shove a pair of dirty underwear under the couch before Ray can catch a glimpse.   
   
"Uh, yeah." Gerard seems distracted and moves forward to turn the television on. "I did."   
   
Ray - as good of a friend as he is - only nods, and decides not to press further into the subject. Gerard is grateful, but a small part of him wants to talk about Frank. He wants to talk about the color and the feelings inside of him and how chocolate brown his eyes are, and basically Gerard wants to be a sixteen year old girl hosting a slumber party. But he keeps his mouth shut.   
   
"Fuck," he gasps once the video game bursts into life. "Jesus Christ man, the fucking graphics."   
   
Ray gives him a confused glance. Gerard's eyes jerk over to his best friend and he tries to cover what he'd just said. They are playing Resident Evil, a game they've beaten and played together countless times. It's only now that Gerard can truly appreciate the gushing red blood that spurts out of Leon's head whenever the chainsaw dude catches up to him.   
   
Ray lets out a chuckle as he smashes through a zombie's skull. "The graphics? I dunno man, they're a little 2005. You played any of those Quantic Dream games? The fucking graphics in those man, holy crap."   
   
The older man says nothing, and continues to plow though the wave of cannibals. His concentration deepens the further they progress into the game, but it's not on trying to stay alive. Gerard is just watching all the pixels dance before his eyes, changing color. A burst of green explodes over the screen as he blows up a zombie with a grenade. A moment later, a chick with an axe lodged into her neck grabs him from behind and he's hacked to pieces as she devours the last of his HP.   
   
"Dammit," Gerard hisses, as Ray's character had died long ago and now they were being left with 'YOU ARE DEAD' splattered across the 42". He throws his wii-remote into a pillow and leans back to take a slice of pizza.   
   
"What the hell has gotten into you, man?" Ray asks, instantly picking up on Gerard's strange behavior.   
   
"Me - what? No. Nothing. I'm great!" Gerard grins, far too happy to have just been eaten alive by monsters.   
   
A flash of a smirk covers Ray's face. "Is Gerard happy because he finally saw pink when he kissed Bertie?" His voice is a high coo, and Gerard scowls, pulling a face of disgust.   
   
"No," he begins to argue. "Wh-why would you think that? C'mon, man. We all know Mikey is the only one lucky enough to get laid by his color chick. Jesus - my life isn't some bad romantic comedy. Fra-" he  shuts his mouth and gulps. Fuck.   
   
Ray is frowning.    
   
He tilts his head to the side, his crazy hair jostling with the movement. "Fra... nchesca? Frankie? Francine? Fra... I can't think of any other names. Franny? Dude, did you...?"   
   
"No!" Gerard yelps, completely aware of how ridiculous he is acting. "I mean no. I didn't see pink when I kissed Bert and I didn't see any chicks called Franny. I- how do you even know about that?" Swiftly, he does his best to avert the subject of Frank.   
   
Ray straightens himself up slightly, and places his own wii-remote to his left. "It came up in passing when he told me about the kid you ran over."   
   
Gerard rolls his eyes, trying to seem unphased by the bringing up of the accident. He looks at Ray. Brown hair, brown eyes, dark stubble. He's seeing colors right now, but he still can't tell even his best friend about them. He feels a snag of guilt inside his stomach.   
   
Always the fucking guilt.   
  



	4. CHAPTER FOUR - WE'VE GOT INNOCENCE FOR DAYS.

Today, he's going back to see Frank.   
   
Unlike last time, he's smiling as he walks through the entrance. His last visit had been solemn faced and guilt ridden, but today feels much more positive. Riding on this, Gerard feels his coffee kicking in as he heads to Frank's room with a spring in his step. Before that, he quickly signs in and notices that it's the same nurse as last time behind the desk. She gives him a rude look, but Gerard smiles her off and gives her a quick wave before heading up the hallway. When he gets to the familiar door, he pauses, and takes a step back. He straightens his shirt, and fuck - does he feel like he's about to meet his girlfriend's parents. A nervous gulp and a hair flick later, Gerard walks in.   
   
He's still smiling, wanting to come across as in a good mood when he steps forward. With his hopes already set so high however, he feels his stomach drop when he sees the empty bed.   
   
Frank has disappeared.   
   
Maybe he's taking a bathroom break, Gerard tries to tell himself. Maybe this is the wrong room.   
   
But Gerard recognizes the view of New Jersey from this particular window, and he can see the bathroom door open, leaving it unoccupied. Feeling awkward and lonely all of a sudden, Gerard jerks back as he retreats from the room. He bumps into a nurse, and whips around to meet him.    
   
"Sorry," he mutters, cursing himself for his clumsy behavior. "Um, do you know where the ah, Frank is?" he asks, giving him a polite smile as his hands fidget together.   
   
"Amnesia John Doe? Sorry sir,  we - we don't know where he is." He sounds anxious, as if something bad has happened. Gerard's frown deepens as any hint of a smile is washed from his face.   
   
"What do you...?" he starts, confused. "You mean he's gone? He just... left?" Gerard feels more panic than necessary swarm around his guts. Frank is gone.   
   
The nurse gives him a tight-lipped look of condolence, and nods his head sadly. "I'm afraid so. We've contacted the police and there is a notice going out to the public. Poor kid is clueless, he might get himself killed out there."   
   
Gerard walks away at that, not giving the nurse another inch of his time. While the flashing lights on the ceiling are still blue, and the sneakers he wears are still red - Gerard can't be sure how long this will last. He needs to find him.   
   
//   
   
This kid could be anywhere. The thought makes Gerard feel anxious as he climbs into his car, trying to ignore the indentation marks on the side from where he'd collided with Frank. Worry floods through his body as that damn responsibility kicks into his system. He's supposed to be looking after this boy. It's Gerard's fault he's been left with no memory, so he then must receive the burden of keeping him safe. Where Gerard should feel annoyed by this weight, he feels almost grateful for it. But letting Frank wander off into the middle of nowhere is not what he had in mind.   
   
Maybe just once in his stupid, pointless existence, Gerard could do some good. He's fucked up before. He's fucked up so badly - breaking Lindsey's heart, becoming a disappointment of a son, running some poor kid over - he needs to turn this around. Finding Frank is the first step of this.   
   
Internally, he debates whether or not he should call Mikey and Ray. They'd help. They're his best friends, and Gerard knows he can trust them, but he feels something pulling at his instincts, telling him that he's on his own this time. The last twenty three years of his life have came with support, and hell - he still lives in his mom's basement. He needs some independence. He's going to find Frank, and he's going to do it by himself.   
   
He thinks as he drives, does this color-soul-mate thing come with a built-in GPS? It sure would be useful. Then again, it would be taking away people's privacy. Hell, Gerard doesn't even understand what it even means at all. He'd been taught about it in class as a teenager who never paid attention, but he remembers snippets of his biology lessons. Something along the lines of it being a way to mate with the perfect match to yourself, creating healthy offspring. The whole evolution thing with the natural selection. Gerard recalls the teacher mentioning some kind of hormone being released in your body as a signal that you'd seen the chick you're supposed to fuck senseless. What Gerard doesn't understand, is how it works for homosexual relationships. Maybe it's God's way of saying that gay is okay. If Gerard had been born 200 years ago, he'd have been drawn and quartered over the kid he'd seen color for.   
   
Hell, maybe Gerard is still kind of scared that something like that will happen. Homophobes are everywhere, claiming that gay people are fucked up. They can't have kids, which is supposed to be the main reason this color shit exists, therefore they're freaks that shouldn't walk this planet as they're a waste of space. The concept makes Gerard feel sick to his stomach.   
   
He arrives at his house, and enters cautiously, knowing that his mother will be back from work today. She shouldn't be here until late, but Gerard knows that she can be rather spontaneous at times. After throwing his keys on the couch, he treads down to his basement, meaning to start up his laptop right away. Maybe he can do some research, like they do in the movies, that will somehow lead him to working out Frank's whereabouts. Surely he couldn't have gone far - with the head injury he'd sustained, maybe he'd have even passed out in the middle of the street. Gerard bites his lip, praying otherwise.   
   
Running a search through the missing person's list is the first thing he does. Eyes flickering across the screen, he reads the description beneath 'JOHN DOE' and identifies him quickly as Frank.  'Black hair, brown eyes, around 5"4. Last seen around the area of Belleville's west park, wearing a hospital gown and bandages around his head. Age is unknown but estimated to be around 19.'   
   
This new information hits Gerard hard. West park - an original name, and not too far from here. Gerard had drove past it briefly on the way back from the hospital, and it's about a ten minute walk from there to his house. He hadn't seen Frank, but he can't be too far. The website suggests that the kid went missing at around 3 AM last night, and was sighted at the park about two hours ago. He probably got distracted feeding the ducks or something.   
   
Gerard decides he'll start there. He closes his computer and heads back upstairs, grabbing his keys on the way. After taking a packet of smokes and shoving them in his pocket, he makes his way to the door. His hands are shaking, and adrenaline is making him feel active but jittery. Fuck - things like this never happen to him. The closest to this was probably the time everyone at a gig had to search for Bert because he'd passed out drunk in the bathtub upstairs. Unlike this though, Gerard had been drunk and it had been hilarious. Today he's nervous and worried.   
   
He let's himself out, but stops halfway through the action, realizing his door step is blocked. Gerard blinks three times, then takes a step backwards as shock covers his face. The keys drop drop his hand.   
   
Frank is stood there, his expression hard as stone. "Hello, Gerard."   
   
It takes a good few minutes for the older man to react appropriately. He stares, trying to figure out just what the fuck is going on. As the website had said, Frank is still in his hospital gown, his hair ruffled and dirty. His bandages must have fallen  away, or he'd pulled them off himself, as they're nowhere to be seen. In turn, Gerard can see the ugly stitches running from his hairline down to his temple. "Frank?" He tries his name, the word lined with surprise. "Frank, what the fuck are you doing here? I was just coming to find you I-"   
   
"There's no time," Frank then says, cutting him off bluntly. "The men in blue are aware of my absence, and I need a place to hide." He then pushes past Gerard, entering his house without much of a warning.   
   
Gerard continues to stare as he closes the door, dumbfounded. "Men in blue huh. So that's what we're calling doctors nowadays." He turns to follow Frank, who trods on down to Gerard's basement of his own accord. "How did you know where I live?" Gerard frowns, moving a confused Frank out of the way to unlock his bedroom door.   
   
Frank clears his throat, and again, he's so fucking close. "I... found your signature under the clip board at the front desk. Your address was also beside it, and I spent the next few hours trying to find this residence." He stops, then slips away from Gerard to enter the basement. "You're the only person I can trust." His voice is low, and his face is serious when he turns to face Gerard once again. "You said you were my friend."   
   
"And I am your friend, Frank. But what the fuck are you doing here? Don't you realize that you were in the hospital for a reason? Y'know, so you wouldn't die?" Gerard tries to put an emphasis on his words, but he receives the feeling that it will mean nothing to Frank.   
   
"I hate white places," the raven haired boy tells him, his voice toned down a little. "They didn't have any intention of letting me leave, either. I heard the doctors. The men in blue shirts."   
   
Gerard sighs. "They're called scrubs, Frank."   
   
Frank then looks down at his own unique clothing, a look of disgust on his face.  Gerard rolls his eyes and walks over to his wardrobe, before pulling out a surprisingly clean PIXIES shirt, along with a pair of faded torn jeans and a thin-ish dark green jacket. "Put these on, you look like a patient at a loony bin. I'll go find you some shoes." He throws the outfit on the bed, and quickly jogs upstairs to receive a pair of neglected gray converse. When he comes back down, Frank is shirtless, trying to pull the zipper on his jeans into place.   
   
"Gerard, it won't go up," he grunts, and Gerard is left feeling uncomfortable and unwilling to take a step forward.   
   
The older man clears his throat, then sterns his gaze. "I'm not your mother, Frank. Just pull the goddamned thing up - no, no don't open it! Fuck, turn around and do that. Man, you're fucked up." Gerard shakes his head as Frank turns his back. It's now that the oldest of the two notices the ink on Frank's back. "Hey, you've got tattoos?" Gerard moves toward Frank, who is now zipped up.   
   
"I don't believe I was ever branded with such a mark," he says, trying to twist around to see the art. He fails, and Gerard places a hand on his shoulder as he leans in to inspect his ink.    
   
"These look pretty new - did you get them like, last month? Also, it looks like you're either a Jesus freak or you're into Bon Jovi." Gerard finds himself nodding in approval at the 'KEEP THE FAITH' stained into Frank's skin, just above a huge Jack o' Lantern. He lifts an eyebrow. "Think you were born on Halloween or something? There's a big ass pumpkin on your back."   
   
Frank stiffens, and his head lowers as he reaches for the shirt on the bed. "I've never heard of Bon Jovi, and I am aware that Halloween is a celebration of things such as pumpkins with faces carved into them."    
   
After he's dressed, Gerard opens his mouth to ask the next question he has in mind, but stops when he hears the front door slam.   
   
"Men in blue," Frank whispers, and Gerard hisses at him to shut up.   
   
"Gerard? Mikey? Hello...?" His mother's voice echoes around the house, and Gerard's face is re-aligned with panic.    
   
"Fuck," he murmurs under his breath. "Mom is back, um... stay here." Gerard gives Frank a look of warning, putting some trust in the boy. "I'll just be one minute." He slips out of the room, and locks the door behind him before bounding upstairs.   
   
His mom is in the kitchen, fixing herself a cup of coffee. "Gee!" she cries out when her son walks into the room. "Look, I'm awfully sorry. I can't stay long - I've been called up on a job in Kansas. I don't think I'll be back until next week." She pulls him in for a quick hug, and Gerard blinks twice once released from the embrace. The blonde woman is just about to take a sip of her coffee, when her phone begins to blare.   
   
"Hello?" she says after pressing the device to her ear, then she smiles. "Yes, okay. I'm on my way, I was just telling my son that I- what? Oh, of course. I'll be right there."   
   
"Mom?" Gerard ducks his head in.   
   
She shakes her head, heading out of the room. "I'm sorry sweetie, can't stay. Tell Mikes I'll be back around Thursday. I'll see you later, and don't you dare let this house turn into a shit hole!"   
   
A few more seconds, and then she's gone.   
   
"Well that was... quick," Gerard mutters, shrugging to himself before grabbing a few granola bars from the cupboard, and a Dr Pepper from the fridge. He trails back downstairs.   
   
When Gerard re-enters his room, Frank has his nose deep into a porno magazine, his face filled with concentration. Gerard gulps, feeling scarlet rush North. "I don't understand," Frank mumbles. "Why would a woman wish to fornicate with a plastic stick? She's very beautiful, I'm certain she could easily seduce a man, which would be much more enjoyable."   
   
Gerard groans. "Gimme that," he snatches the porno, and throws it into the bin. It wasn't a very good one anyway. "You're too damn innocent, I don't wanna be here when you get your first post-amnesia boner."   
   
Frank looks down. Gerard refuses to let his eyes follow, and finds his laptop. He takes it to the bed and sits on the edge, Frank right by his side. The older man's insides swell, and he swallows. Hard.    
   
He opens up the computer, and he is led straight to the page he had last viewed. Frank frowns, leaning in. "My name is not John Doe," he remarks, tilting his head to the side.   
   
"Yeah, yeah, Frank. I know," Gerard reassures him. "It's just a... saying kinda thing. When the police don't know someone's name, they become John Doe or Jane Doe." He thinks this information is right, but he's not sure. He's judging his knowledge on the crime drama he watches every now and then. A thought suddenly strikes him, and he looks back to Frank. "You got a surname?"   
   
"Frank," Frank says.   
   
Gerard lets out a snort of amusement. "Frank Frank, yeah sounds batshit delightful. You don't have to have one if you don't want. I mean - I can't exactly imagine you applying for university or anything."   
   
A look of peace waves over Frank's face, and he closes his eyes for a brief second before opening them once again. "Well then I wish to remain as Frank. Just Frank."   
   
Gerard shrugs. "Whatever floats your boat, man." He opens a new tab on his internet browser, and begins a nationwide search on missing persons over the last three months. He quickly closes it, as he finds a result for over 3,000 people. Brilliant.   
   
"I don't have a boat."   
   
Gerard frowns. "Huh?" He'd been lost in his ridiculous search, that he didn't realize Frank had been talking.   
   
Frank's eyes peer into his, like the younger boy is staring straight into his soul. "You suggested I float my boat. I don't own a boat."   
   
With a sigh, Gerard closes his eyes and lets himself fall backwards onto his bed. "It's an expression, Frank. Just an expression." He locks his hands together behind his head. "Boy, do you have a lot to learn."  
  



	5. CHAPTER FIVE -  THE TRUTH IS NOT WHAT SCARES ME.

Smoke billows up through the air, filling the Jersey sky with a familiar mix of grays that curl together, becoming pearly and washed out amongst the dark storm clouds. Rain begins to fall, and it smashes hard against the tiles nailed onto the roof. The ground quickly becomes water beaten and the sun splashed streets are cold and drenched. Under the raging weather, Gerard sits in his house and stares poetically out of his window. His eyes are near black, and his gaze is uncentered and has no focus to it as he pulls another drag from his cigarette.  
   
Once again, Gerard is thinking.  
   
It's the same thought that has been stuck in his head since day one. It's the same question that plagues his mind, and leaves him with nothing else to think about when he is not occupied. Sometimes he tries to get rid of it, by trying to draw or listening to music. He'll even clean his room to cloud his mind, or he'll mindlessly play video games and drink coffee.  
   
Does he want to know about Frank's past?  
   
He has no idea. Something - he can't tell what - terrifies him about the concept of finding out. He knows he's probably over-reacting, but it sits inside of him, eating away at his flesh. Of course he's curious; but he's scared. So, he just tries to push it from his mind.  
   
With a sigh, he tries to conclude what he thinks as he stares into the rain. He simply tells himself that he has more important things to be worrying about, and he climbs from his seat. The cigarette he'd been smoking had dropped it's last ashes about fifteen minutes ago, but the tab end is still held in place by his fingers. As he walks in the direction of the bathroom, he flicks it into a random pile of junk.  
   
He starts with washing his face. Something about the rush of cold water against his skin make him feel cleansed; relaxed. Once any dirt has been scrubbed from his flesh, he lifts his head and stares in the mirror for a few moments. It's only after a good four seconds that he notices Frank stood behind him. "Gerard."  
   
"Crap, Frank! What the fuck, man?" Gerard turns at lightning speed, and finds himself almost nose to nose with the strange boy. They're so close together that Gerard has to lean backwards into the basin, trying not to fall on top of him.  
   
Frank does the stupid head tilt thing, where his face fills up with confusion. "Have I done something wrong?" he asks, completely and utterly oblivious to how his pelvis is more or less joined to Gerard's right now.  
   
One gulp and a quick glance to Frank's lips, then Gerard pushes him away. "Don't start humping me in my bathroom, okay? That's not right," he growls, and Frank notices that he certainly did do something wrong.  
   
He looks guilty. "I'm... I'm sorry. Although I have no intention of grinding myself against you in your own home-" a quick pause, as if Frank has to think for a moment. "I'll keep that in mind."  
   
"Good idea."  
   
It's been nearly a week since Frank had popped into Gerard's life, and he'd been staying at his house for three days now. It had been a pain, mainly because the kid wouldn't eat  anything with meat in it. Gerard had to feed him somehow, but all he had to give was granola bars and sliced bread. Not only was food a problem, but so was showering and tying his fucking shoe laces. Frank is a mess of a teenager, and Gerard is the one who has been left to pick up all the pieces and glue him back together again.  
   
Frank would also barely sleep. He'd sit up in the makeshift bed Gerard had made for him, and do nothing for hours. It's only when it gets to around 3 or 4 AM that he'll pass out, but then he'll be awake again early the next day. "That's fucking creepy," Gerard had told him.  
   
Now it's Wednesday, and Gerard's mother is due back tomorrow evening. The two boys were left alone in the house most of the time, as Mikey had decided he'd be staying at Alicia's. He'd only turn up for ten minutes at a time, picking up some DVD's or something that he wanted to show his girlfriend. The house was quiet most of the time, other than when Gerard got frustrated or shouted at Frank. After yelling, he'd always feel guilt stab him in the chest, and he'd quickly apologize.  
   
If Ray was here, he'd be ripping hard on Gerard for being whipped.  
   
Yet, Gerard's relationship with Frank hardly consists of anything sexual. Maybe Gerard's thoughts had turned slightly lustful at moments - but nature had literally told him that Frank is his soul mate. He can't help it, he just gets caught up in moments. The lingering eye contact and gazing at Frank's lips makes Gerard cringe. Maybe it's there, and the chemistry is alive, but he doesn't want it. He doubts that Frank does either, and a small piece of disappointment finds itself at Gerard's feet as he considers the possibility.  
   
At three o'clock, Mikey returns home.  
   
Gerard and Frank are in the living room when he enters, and neither of them have any time to hide. It's a messy scene of harshly whispered curses and barely audible voices. Gerard tries to harbor Frank downstairs, aware that his brother is right outside the door. "Fuck," he hisses. "Fuck, fuck. Fuck. He's gonna cut my balls off if he finds out you're here." Gerard glances down at Frank, unsure of what to do.  
   
"I'll introduce myself," Frank then informs him, leaving Gerard feeling fucked over.  
   
He reaches to stop the younger boy, but it's too late. "Goddammit, Frank."  
   
Frank pulls open the door and slips into the hallway, where Mikey can be heard talking to his girlfriend over the phone. Gerard is still in the living room, digging his nails into the carpet with anger. Before Frank can let anything too ridiculous happen, Gerard shoots up and squeezes through the crack of the ajar door. Frank approaches an unsuspecting Mikey, who hasn't noticed the trespasser just yet. However, when Frank gently rests a hand on Mikey's shoulder, he more or less craps himself.  
   
"Hello, Michael," Frank greets him earnestly, too close, but not as close as he'd been with Gerard.  
   
The younger Way brother's face drains white, and he stares into Frank's eyes as if he's seeing a ghost. Then, all of a sudden, his eyes flick over to Gerard. Something changes then, and his face relaxes. "Who the fuck are you?" he frowns, looking back to Frank. Gerard feels unsure of what to do with himself, so he leans against the wall and waits for Frank to get his dumb-ass introduction over with.  
   
The raven haired boy purses his lips, his eyes big and wide as he soul-stares straight into Mikey. "I am Frank. Just Frank - I have no last name. You may call me Frank."  
   
Gerard curses again, and steps forward to intervene. "Look, Mikes. I can expla-"  
   
"You fucking kidnapped him?" Mikey half-yells, glaring at his brother in a mixture of horror and disappointment. "Why would you kidnap a crazy person? Gerard, what the fuck?"  
   
A growl. "He's not crazy, you ass."  
   
"He got his name from Donnie Darko!"  
   
"Look, Mi-"  
   
Frank closes his eyes briefly, then shakes his head. "I am your brother's keeper," he suddenly announces, turning back to Mikey - who's face is a rainbow of negative emotions right now. "And I am also his friend. You should stop treating him like an ass-" a tiny smirk curls in the corner of Frank's lip at the use of a swear. "And listen to his explanation."  
   
Mikey lets a sarcastic huff of amusement fall from his lips. Gerard is blushing, trying not to smile at Frank's first step towards insulting someone.  
   
"This is ridiculous," Mikey tells them, walking toward his brother. His arms are open at his sides, a gesture of his bitchy mood. "Do you realize how much shit you could get into for kidnapping someone from a fucking hospital?"  
   
Gerard sighs and tries to look his brother in the eye. Frank in the background is frowning, and moves closer as he opens his mouth to talk. Again, his eyes are so sincere as he looks at the brown haired boy. "Mikey, Gerard will most likely be locked in jail. There would be no 'shit' involved. Not unless his cell mate decided to pass bowel movement over him," he explains his deduction, and Mikey is about to respond when he trades a quick look with Gerard. He decides to keep his mouth shut and glares back at his brother.  
   
"Mom is home tomorrow."  
   
"I know."  
   
"What are you going to do with him?"  
   
"Keep him in the basement?"  
   
Mikey stamps his foot impatiently, pulling a face of pain. "Gee, be rational. For once in your life, please."  
   
"I'm sorry, Mikey," Gerard says, giving up. He turns to walk away. "I think he's cute - so I'll keep him. He has dimples."  
   
Mikey also has a look of resignation on his face. "Fuck this," he grumbles, and begins heading toward the kitchen. "You have to get rid of him before Mom gets back."  
   
A yell of "Whatever," from the basement, and Frank is left lingering in the hallway. He's been abandoned by Gerard and is unsure of whether or not Mikey likes him.  
   
He gulps and moves to follow his friend's brother, and watches him start the coffee machine up. Frank is stood just behind him, practically breathing on his shoulder. At first, Mikey doesn't notice this. After a few minutes however, he suddenly freezes and whips around to meet Frank face to face. "Don't do that," he hisses and lifts a hand to push the smaller boy away.  
   
Frank re-positions himself and moves backwards slightly. He holds Mikey's gaze. "Tell me about Gerard."  
   
For a moment, Mikey gawks, frowning slightly. Frank's serious face tenses slightly more. "Well he's a stubborn, irrational, crazy son of a bitch," Mikey tells him. Frank nods, taking in the information as if he is scribbling down notes in the middle of class. After talking, Mikey lets out a sigh. "Look - why? Why do you wanna know?"  
   
The youngest of the two tilts his head. "I already told you, I am his keeper. A guardian."  
   
"That sounds really gay, Frank."  
   
"I don't let myself become hindered by sexuality."  
   
Something creeps onto Mikey's face as he lifts an eyebrow. "So you're into chicks and guys?"  
   
He shakes his head. "I don't see the benefits of beastiality and I see no problem with being into a guy." He then pauses, letting himself think for a brief moment. "Although the women in your brother's magazines are also very beautiful."  
   
Then, there is a knock at the door.  
   
"I'll get it!" Gerard yells, and both boys in the kitchen can hear his heavy footsteps climbing up the stairs. Another impatient bang, followed up by a gruff male voice;  
   
"This is the NJPD. Open up, sir."  
   
Gerard freezes, just in Mikey's line of view. The brothers trade a soulful look, then look over to Frank. He's already made himself scarse.  
   
"Yes?" Gerard cracks open the door. He sees two officers holding their badges up, and he instantly feels anxiety bubble in his stomach.  
   
"We'd like to ask you some questions," the female of the two says, sounding irritated and angry. Her eyebrows are furrowed together deeply, making her look intimidating.  
   
Her male counterpart gives Gerard a small smile. "It's about the amnesia patient at the hospital. Can we come in and just go over a few things with you?"  
   
Nervously, Gerard looks back into the house. Mikey is still in the kitchen, watching intently. Frank is nowhere to be seen. He looks back to the officers. "Uh, yeah. Sure. Why not, come in. Mikey is making coffee." He tries to smile convincingly at them, and lets them come into the house.  
   
They sit in the living room, where Gerard again tries to kick any dirty underwear under the couch. He feels uncomfortable, but waits for one of the officers to begin speaking.  
   
"So, we're aware that you were one who hit the boy, and took him into the hospital. You were also the only visitor he had the next day, and you were also there on the day he disappeared." The male officer begins the questions. "Did he speak of anyone while you were with him? Someone he might be able to go to, or maybe an enemy?"  
   
Gerard looks taken aback, and he doesn't know what to say. Fuck, he's not good at this. Talking to people was never a real skill for him. He only leaves the house to get drunk, after all. The officer waits patiently for him to gather his bearings. "Look, I... he never said anything about anyone. He doesn't even remember anything. He has amnesia-"  
   
"Mr Way." The female doctor glares at him. "This boy's life is at risk. You've already put him in jeopardy, and you should be glad that you're not behind bars right now. If you know where the kid is; tell us. Now."  
   
He gulps again. "I'm sorry. I don't know anything."  
   
"Thank you for your time, Mr Way." The nicer officer stands up first, giving him a smile before gesturing for his partner to follow. Gerard walks them out, and once the door is shut, he sinks to the ground against it. "Fuck. Fuck. Fuck-" his breathing comes jagged, and he closes his eyes. Breathe.  
   
"Gee?"  
   
He looks up, his face white as a sheet to see Mikey. "I'm okay," he tells his brother. "Where's Frank?"  
   
"In your room, I think." Mikey lowers a hand, and Gerard grasps it tight and is hauled to his feet. They both trail downstairs, and see Frank sat on the edge of Gerard's bed, curiously stroking the guitar in his lap. It's Gerard's beat up old acoustic - the one he had tried and failed to play years ago. Still, he's glad he didn't have to give it to Bert.  
   
"Gerard!" Frank exclaims with a smile, catching his friend's eye. "Look - while you were busy attending to men in blue, I learned how to do something."  
   
Mikey and Gerard both quickly glance at each other, as they always do. Gerard moves toward his bed. "Kick it man," he encourages Frank.  
   
He frowns. "I'm not going to kick it, I'm going to pla-"  
   
A quick, rehearsed sigh. "It's a reference. Just - go ahead."  
   
A smile brightens Frank's face once again, and Gerard feels his insides curl. He'd never smiled, not once until now. Then, he starts to play. At first, he starts slow and his fingers are slightly clumsy as they cover the fret board. After a calmer introduction, he starts picking at the strings, his hands a frenzy as the pumps out a recognizable Iron Maiden solo - acoustically.  
   
"Dude, was that Ides of March?" Mikey is gaping, eyes wide with shock. "That song is like... impossible. How did you - only Ray can - what?"  
   
Frank looks incredibly happy with his new found talent, and Gerard claps a hand over his shoulder. "Impressive," he tells him, and his face brightens up even more. "Were you looking at my chord book?" Gerard notices a scruffy ring binder beside Frank, open at a tab of the song he'd just played.  
   
"I found the tableture and noticed this string instrument underneath your pile of dirty underwear and black shirts." Frank looks up and informs him. "I enjoyed that - it was fun."  
   
Mikey scoffs. "Looking though Gerard's underwear or playing guitar?"  
   
Frank's expression is blank. "There was an interesting range in color and patten between each pair."  
   
Rolling his eyes, Gerard pushes Mikey out of the room. As he's shoved through the door, Gerard mouths a 'we'll talk later', before locking him out and turning back to sit on his bed beside Frank. "Bon Jovi and Iron Maiden, huh. Just who the fuck are you...?"  
   
The smaller boy sighs. "We've gone over this, Gerard - my name is Frank."  
   
Gerard doesn't answer, only sits there trying to think. Who is this kid? Where is he from? His articulate posture and lack of knowledge are a strange combination that shouldn't mix - but it just makes him so... Frank. Another beaten down sigh, and Gerard tries not to think about it again.  
   
Secretly, maybe he kind of believes that Frank is dangerous. He has no memory of his life, so who is to say he might not be a serial killer? What if he's an ex-convict?  
   
But he takes another look at Frank, and finds his eyes jittering over his features. His innocent face and wide, curious eyes tell Gerard that he can't be anything bad. He continues to play guitar, settling for a slightly calmer Kansas riff, getting his timing slightly off as he follows another tab within the old chord book. Gerard's mother will be back tomorrow, and Gerard realizes then that Mikey is right. He needs to sort something out. He needs Frank to be safe, but he can't stay here.  
 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm sorry idek anything about iron maiden so if that was inaccurate or w/e then i'm sorry


	6. CHAPTER SIX - I LIVE WITH THIS EVERYDAY.

The sky is blue.  
   
The grass is green.  
   
The old distorted house Gerard is staring at  is brown.  
   
It's an almost crumbling piece of architecture. Hidden away by the trees a short walk away from Gerard's house, no one even notices that it exists. From a cynical view, one might not even call it a house. More of a shack, or a cabin. It's fairly deep into the woods, and Gerard is surprised that the place bares no marks of vandalism. Instead, the decay appears to have set in of it's own accord, the wood breaking down due to nature over the years. It had been here for as long as Gerard could remember. As a child, he and Mikey used to explore these woods and had found the place just before the summer of '99. They'd been wary to tell other people of it's existence, as they loved to think it was their own private hang out. Mikey would spend hours sitting in the armchair, aggressively smashing the buttons on his gameboy as Gerard would be cross-legged on the floor, his sketchpad open at his feet.  
   
Thirteen years later, Gerard realizes that he'd kinda missed the beat-up old place. He smiles, and walks up the dirt path to reach the front door. Carefully, he pushes the front door open, making it give in with a loud creek. The room Gerard steps into is dark, little light streaming in through the dirt encrusted windows. He spots the familiar couch, springs poking through the mattress, and moves closer to it in order to drop his huge bag against the red cushions.  
   
A small coffee table sits in front of the sofa, and the small arm chair is cast into the the corner of the room. By it, several sheets of paper are scattered across the floor. Some of them are drawings; Gerard's early art as an eleven year old kid. Other scraps are filled with writing, Mikey's ideas and Gerard's comic book plot lines. He crouches down, and reaches out to pick one up. He holds it into the light so that  he can see, and smiles at the rough scribble of 'My Chemical Romance - NJ 2001'. Beside the band name Mikey had dreamed up over a book he'd read, is a messy sketch of a vampire that Gerard only just remembers drawing. It was rushed, and the blood that dribbles from the cartoon's chin is black. Gerard purses his lips, and stands up. He reaches into his back pocket and takes out the red marker pen he now carries with him at all times, and pulls the lid off with his mouth. He touches the tip down on the creased paper, and stains the vampire's fangs crimson red.  
   
Red.  
   
However tragic his first sight of the color was, it's still his favorite. If anything, the memory of Frank's blood on his hands only makes it stand out even more amongst the other colors. Perhaps if Frank had died that night, Gerard would hate it. But he'd lived, and now it's something that Gerard can't keep his eyes away from.  
   
Before heading back home, Gerard unpacks the things he'd brought. A blow-up mattress and a sleeping bag, blankets and a few clothes.  After it's all in place, he gives the house a once over. The wardrobe is lined with dust, but it can easily be cleaned and made adequate. One glance at the bathroom however, and Gerard wrinkles his nose up. He gives the rusted pipe leading to the shower a kick, and an assortment of bugs crawl out of the head. Scowling, he slams the door shut and decides never to go in there again.  
   
He grabs a few of his things, and heads back out into the wilderness. As he travels through the lush green forest, he finds his mind going back to the art he'd found in the cabin. The vampire beside Mikey's band name is the one that sticks in his head the clearest. Gerard remembers what it had been like to be a kid. He and Mikey had plans of becoming rock stars. They were going to start a band together, and they'd be famous. After this, it didn't take long for Gerard to wake up and realize how ridiculous their dreams were. It was like a bucket of freezing water and been thrown on him, and he began to focus more on his art.  
   
His art. That was something that had been failing him recently.  
   
Maybe it was because he hadn't tried. He'd been busy since he'd met Frank, and time to spare was lucky to have around. He decides that he'll try and draw something tonight, using the brand-new colored marker pens he'd been hiding from his family. If anyone finds out about how he'd drifted from classic black and white, then suspicions would be sure to follow. Sadly, Gerard also knows that his new art will be off-limits from Mikey and the others.    
   
He arrives back home, and is glad that he didn't spend too long at the cabin. His mom is due back within the next  hour, and he knows that Frank has to be gone before she finds out about him. Gerard and Mikey had discussed the plan last night, and had arrived at a decision fairly quickly. It's fool proof.  
   
Although, Gerard isn't sure that it's Amnesia-Frank proof. He can only cross his fingers and hope that this runs smoothly until something else can be arranged.  
   
"Hello, Gerard."  
   
Fuck. Gerard has a small heart attack, then spins around in the hallway to see Frank. "Don't do that," he tells him, face stern. "Look, we need to talk a-"  
   
Frank shakes his head and puts a hand on Gerard's shoulder. The older man suddenly silences. "I'm going to be frank with you, Gerard," he says, unsettlingly serious. Gerard blinks, wondering if Frank had made that pun on purpose. He clears his throat, and gives him a sincere look. "I have to leave."  
   
It takes a moment for Gerard to process this. "Yes," he says, feeling confused. "Um, yes you do. Did Mikey tell you about...?"  
   
"Mikey hasn't told me about anything, Gerard. Only how to operate the coffee machine."  
   
Gerard rolls his eyes. "No. I mean, about where you're going to go." Frank's confusion is Gerard's answer. "Huh," he breathes. "Well - you don't have to leave. I mean, you do, but we have it sorted. We have a place not far from here you can stay."  
   
A frown, and more chocolate brown curiosity. "Is it away from the men in blue?"  
   
"Scrubs, Frank. Doctors."  
   
"Will they find me?"  
   
The older man sighs. "No, you'll be safe there. No one will find you."  
   
Frank is nodding, taking the idea into consideration. "I... can see why this will be for the best. Thank you, Gerard."  
   
Gerard laughs, shrugging it off. "It's cool, dude. Uh, do you wanna get going? My mom is gonna be back here soon."  
   
"Of course," Frank smiles. "Let's go."  
   
//  
   
The first thing that Frank does when he enters the ramshackle cabin, is close his eyes and take in a deep whiff of the air.  
   
"Is it supposed to smell like this, Gerard?"  
   
"It's teen spirit. Here," a can of deodorant flies through the air, and Frank simply lifts a hand to catch it. He shakes the can, frowning at it curiously. Gerard looks up just in time to stop him from spraying it into his mouth. "Dude!" he glares at him. "Are you fucking retarded?"  
   
The smaller boy looks at him. "What am I supposed to do with it?"  
   
"You spray it under your arms, Frank. It makes you smell less like dude."  
   
"Will that mean you'll stop referring to me as 'dude'? Because as we have established, my name is Frank."  
   
Gerard doesn't even reply. Instead, he stands up and frowns as he looks over the room that Frank will be staying in until - until what? Gerard doesn't have a long term plan for this boy. He has no idea what to do with him. Leaving him here by himself surely isn't a brilliant idea, but it's all that he has. He sighs.    
   
"That's your bed," Gerard points at the blow up mattress he had inflated earlier. "Your clothes are in that bag, and there are some granola bars and some Dr P in there too. I can bring more stuff over later, and I'll come by and check on you tomorrow morning. Are you going to be okay?" His eyes are worried and his tone is concerned.    
   
Frank stares back at him. "I don't want to be on my own," he says in a tiny voice.  
   
There is a slight pause, in which Gerard determines how to respond. "Hey, you said you wanted to leave," he says, moving closer to sit beside him for a moment.    
   
Frank stiffens in his presence, and their shoulder's brush together. "I never said I wanted to leave. I said I needed to."  
   
"You'll be fine," Gerard reassures him with a smile. "Get some sleep, I'll come by tomorrow."  
   
"Thank you, Gerard."  
   
//  
   
He goes home, and he has more time to think. Not only that, but he also has no Frank to occupy his time. Maybe Gerard is slightly biased towards his art within this whole color scheme, but that doesn't matter. Tonight he can actually get some painting done. Colorful painting.  
   
The beginning of his art starts with a flower. No - it's a Rose. Dark, scarlet red. His hand flicks the brush over his initial pencil strokes, and the color begins to ooze down the canvas. It's dripping, blood red from the rose. He leans back and looks at this, curious at how the watercolors and acrylics can create an interesting effect together. They make a contrast; washed out reds that splatter like rain, and thick dribbling marks as if the painting itself can bleed.  
   
A pair of hands form around this, and Gerard has to go back with his pencil as he sketches in more details of a faceless person. Before his eyes, he takes shape. The strong, chisel cut jaw and cheekbones of an angel - it's not long before Gerard figures out that his art has become a cliche. A personalized cliche, but a cliche nonetheless. He doesn't know whether or not to continue, but the painting is perfect so far. Biting back at his gut, Gerard lifts his pencil once again as he begins to draw in the rest of the details.  
   
Arched eyebrows. Cat-like-smile. Flawless nose. Big, sad eyes.  
   
His hair frames his face, the longest locks curling just below his cheekbones. Eyes cast down, he's looking at the flower, stained with blood. It's all over his hands. It's smudged on his face and it's creeping down from his hairline. Gerard signs his name at the bottom, and takes in the beauty of what he'd just created.  
   
How ironic that the first thing he'd make would be the first thing he'd seen.  
 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> leave a kudos/comment if you're enjoying this fic? 
> 
> thanks guys 
> 
> xofeb


	7. CHAPTER SEVEN - MY CHARADE IS THE EVENT OF THE SEASON.

  
   
"The Hunger Games, Frank - no. It's about - yes I know, just listen. No it's about a bunch of kids killing each other. What? No, it's the sequel about the fire chick. Frank - wait, no stop. Catching Fire. It's the second one. It's better? It's better. Wait, why do you - fuck. Do you wanna go see the damn movie or not?"   
   
Gerard sighs audibly into the phone, but finds himself smiling. Frank has been slowly adjusting to 'normal life', and has managed to keep himself alive in his little house for the last few weeks. As a celebration for this, Gerard thought it'd be nice to take him out to see his first ever movie at a cinema. Sadly, X-Men isn't screening yet, but the new Hunger Games movie will at least teach Frank a few survival skills. It had taken a while for Frank to make use of the phone Gerard had bought for him, but now that he's got the hang of it - Gerard is thinking of letting him borrow his old laptop.   
   
Gerard decides that he'll go visit Frank himself, then they'll drive to the movies in his car. He knocks on the door, and it is answered by a smartly dressed Frank. "What's with the James Bond get go?" he asks, lifting an eyebrow at Frank's shirt and tie.   
   
The smaller boy sterns his eyes. "We're going to see a movie. After talking with Mikey, he suggested I dress as if I'm going on a date with Ellen Page. Although I don't know who that is... I figured something smart would look nice."   
   
Gerard simply nods, pulling a face of subtle acknowledgement. "Well uh, let's go."   
   
//   
   
Although Frank is desperate for an over-priced chocolate bar from the entrance, Gerard quickly pays for their tickets and they go in to take their seats. Throughout the film, Frank frowns, muttering a series of cynical comments about plot holes within the structure of the the movie. After being glared at by a couple not far to their left, Gerard hisses at him to be quiet.   
   
Seeing this film in black and white was already one thing, but now Gerard can only gape at the rush of colors that spill through the 3D screen. It blows his mind, leaving him feeling slightly vulnerable and bewildered. Frank can't appreciate this in the depth Gerard does, but he still seems to settle in and enjoy the action that sides with the storyline. Despite his rambling and anger towards the movie at first, towards the end, Frank is certainly becoming more invoked within it. The credits appear, and Gerard turns to face him. "See? Wasn't so hard now, was it?"   
   
"But why would she kiss the boy from her home town if she's engaged to the blonde boy?" Frank's confusion stains the room, and Gerard rolls his eyes before pulling him out of his seat. "Gerard, the film hasn't finished," he argues.   
   
"It's just the damn credits, let's go get a pizza. C'mon." Gerard is rolling his eyes, and eventually manages to drag Frank out of the screening hall. As fun as 'adventures of Frank and Gerard at the movies' is,  both boys are craving food after sitting through two hours of watching people starve to death. They find the car, and Gerard accepts his mission of finding somewhere cheap to eat.   
   
Living in this part of Jersey can be rough. Beaten up towns and bad reputations seem to follow which ever city a person decides to explore. Gerard makes a mental note to be careful as he pulls up beside a desolate alley. The pizzeria is just around the corner, and it shouldn't take longer than ten minutes to get in and out. "Stay here," he warns Frank, not liking the darkness that surrounds them. "I won't be long."   
   
"No meat," is all Frank says, and Gerard flashes him a quick smile. He gets out of the car, and heads over to the store.   
   
Inside is warm, and a fuzzy orange glow seems to fold around Gerard as he enters. He steps up to the counter and checks how much money he has left with him. Enough for a pizza and two cokes, he assumes. The order is filled out quickly, and he pays special attention towards Frank's vegetarian diet.   
   
He's left alone with his head for a minute as he waits for the food.   
   
Frank.   
   
Fuck - he couldn't help it. He can't. It's getting ridiculous. Gerard is feeling stupid, dumb, lovesick thoughts toward this boy that he doesn't even want to feel anything towards. Gerard can appreciate Frank as a friend - a close friend. He doesn't want to have sex with him or kiss him under the stars; but he does. It's fucking him up. It's fucking him up because he knows why he fell for this color spell. It was for his art. That's all he cares about, but his brain keeps trying to tell him otherwise.   
   
Goddammit, he isn't even gay.   
   
What irritates him even more, is just how often he has this internal debate. Sometimes he just wants to give in and ask Mikey what to do. But he doesn't; he just keeps on ignoring it. He ignores the stupid teenage swelling in his heart, and he ignores the ridiculous ideas that swell in his mind at night. He's glad he got rid of Frank from his room. Privacy truly is a blessing.   
   
A sudden scream pierces through Gerard's thought process.  
   
The worst case scenarios hit him the hardest as he flees from the pizzeria. It's the dead of the night; they're in a bad part of town. Fuck - he tries to push it all away. He can't think like that. Not now, not ever. The images of Frank's blood becoming a stain in the alley are blinding, hurting his head as he turns the corner.   
   
The first thing he sees is the body on the ground. The second thing he sees is the silhouette standing over it. Gerard gulps, breathing hard. "Frank?" he calls out, terrified for the boy's safety. "Frank? Are you okay?"   
   
"I'm fine, Gerard," he steps out of the darkness. Gerard lets out a sigh of relief and rushes forwards to join him in the dash of moonlight.   
   
"What the fuck happened?" Gerard asks, grabbing him by the shoulder. He looks down, noticing a girl knocked out cold on the floor. "Frank?"   
   
Frank purses his lips, and his eyes meet Gerard's before he begins to tell his story. "She said she'd give me the best night of my life," he explains, tone thick with honesty. "You know that I find it difficult to sleep, Gerard. I thought she was going to help with that - but then she began to advance on me and I had no choice but to subdue her."   
   
Gerard isn't even surprised, but he still gapes at Frank. "You... killed a prostitute?"   
   
He shakes his head. "No, I only let her fall unconscious. I checked her pulse." He then glances about, before staring at his friend intently in the eyes. "But I could easily finish the job if that's what you believe to be the best option."   
   
"What? No - Frank!" Gerard pulls him closer, away from the hooker. "Get in the car."   
   
"Are you mad?"   
   
"No, just get in the car."   
   
Frank does as he's told, and Gerard quickly follows him. The older man is holding a tiny smirk on his face, and bursts into laughter as he clips his seat-belt into place. "Is something funny?" Frank asks obliviously.   
   
Gerard snorts. "You just beat up a chick because she offered you a blow job," he says, shaking his head wryly. "Jesus, Frank. I love you."   
   
Frank blinks. "You love me, Gerard? Or do you love Jesus?"   
   
More chopped up laughter escapes Gerard, and he smiles as he kicks the car into gear. "I'll drive you back to my place, and Mom is out so you can use the shower, then I'll walk you back down to your uh, cabin." He pulls the car out of the alley, and looks back to shoot the darkness a quick glance.   
   
//   
   
Frank uses the bathroom, and Gerard waits downstairs as he talks to Mikey. Again, a hair of temptation makes Gerard want to ask his brother about the colors, but he keeps his mouth shut. Everything would only become more confusing if anyone knew what was going on. Gerard thinks to himself that if this was under any other circumstances, then he'd probably be fine with it. However, Frank isn't exactly 'normal'.   
   
"I dunno, man..." Mikey sighs. They're on the topic of Alicia. She's been away on holiday for the last week, and the younger Way feels the need to complain about it at every given opportunity. "I just feel like crap when she's not around, and her flight home is booked for nearly two weeks from now. Fuck - Skype just isn't cutting it for me." He lets out a depraved sigh.   
   
Gerard rolls his eyes, wanting to make a comment on how Mikey at least had some luck regarding his color chick. "She'll be fine, and you'll get so much pussy when she gets back - you'll drown in it," he decides to say instead.   
   
"Please don't try and give me reassurance ever again, Gerard."   
   
Both boys then look up, as they hear footsteps treading down the stairs. Frank enters the room, dripping wet. His shirt is half buttoned up, and sticks to his body, making the tattoos on his back visible through the thin material. Gerard bites his lip at the sight of his hair, which is a wet mess that hangs over part of his face. "I don't think your boyfriend has ever heard of a towel," Mikey snickers a remark, slipping out of the room to play video games. Gerard is left to stare at Frank by himself, and he swallows. Hard.   
   
Frank doesn't seem as uncomfortable, and is glancing at the door Mikey had just disappeared through. "I'm not your boyfriend," he murmurs, then looks back to Gerard.   
   
"No - no you're not. Look um..." Gerard desperately searches for an escape out of the conversation. An idea quickly hits him, and he holds a hand up. "Wait here."   
   
He dashes downstairs, and opens his wardrobe. After digging though a few handfuls of black, he finds the old chunk of metal he'd meant to retrieve earlier that day. Wiping the dust away, he opens it up and decides that it's still in decent condition. Before heading back to Frank, he grabs a spare charger and locks up his room. "Hey," he sounds out of breath when he re-enters the living room.  "I ah... have a present for you."   
   
Instantly, Frank's face lights up with curiosity, coupled by his trademark confusion. "It's not my birthday."   
   
"Don't ruin it, just take the damn thing."    
   
"Ah..." Frank says as he accepts it into his hands, smiling as he looks back to Gerard. "I see. It's similar to the gray box you use to view naked women on."   
   
"You make me sound like the ultimate porn addict."   
   
They take the computer back to the cabin, and get it set up with internet connection. Gerard installs a few different types of software, including an alternative to the default Internet Explorer, and he teaches Frank the basics of the online world. "Think you can handle that?" he asks, giving him the lift of a worried eyebrow.   
   
"I may have no memory, but I'm not a complete simpleton." Frank retorts, and Gerard withdraws slightly at the statement.   
   
"Frank..." he starts, face cautious. "Do you... want to know about your past?"   
   
Frank's eyes are distant, as if he's deep in thought. He swallows once, then centers his eyes back on Gerard's again. "I don't know."   
   
"You don't know?   
   
Frank sighs, his eyes falling closed. "I don't know, Gerard. I'm afraid of what I'll find. I'm afraid it will make me leave this place, and return home. Wherever that is."  
 


	8. CHAPTER EIGHT - BE CAREFUL MAKING WISHES IN THE DARK.

The day starts like any other day since Frank had become a guest star in Gerard's life.    
   
He wakes up.    
   
He gazes out of the window as he smokes.   
    
He stares at all the pretty colors.   
   
He makes coffee.   
   
He paints.    
   
He calls Frank.    
   
It's a nice routine. It's simple; it's easy. There's no mess anymore - the drugs and alcohol seem to be a thing of the past. Gerard realizes that he has everything that he ever wanted, and now he's content with it. He can finally live life being the artist he'd always craved to be. It takes weeks of the color and the bleeding sunsets, but he slowly recognizes a new addiction. This vibrant world; his new eyes - they have replaced the late night parties and the anti-depression pills. They're his new drug.   
   
But it's okay, because this time: no one can get hurt. Gerard can't fuck up.  
  
For the first time in all his life, everything is perfect.   
  
He trails upstairs in his pajamas, a hazy smile filling his face. After placing his mug on the coffee table, he flops onto the couch and rests his feet on Mikey's knees. His younger brother is concentrating on a very intense game of Mario Kart, so he doesn't have time to complain or tell his brother to fuck off.   
   
Gerard just lies there; being the lazy mother fucker that he is. He reaches for another Wii-remote, and connects to the next match."Good luck," Mikey snorts, because Gerard sucks at video games. As his brother had predicted, he fails miserably and comes in at 7th. The younger Way had bitten down on his lip throughout the heated race, rewarding him with the shiny gold prize of 1st. Gerard feels jealousy rivet through his veins, but he just drinks more coffee and washes it away.   
   
Just before lunch, he hugs his mother and says goodbye before she heads off to work. She tells him that she'll be back tomorrow night, and Gerard is instantly itching to call Frank. "Hey, Mikey? Where's my cell?" he calls to his brother, searching under a mass of pillows. He receives no answer, and growls under his breath as he jogs down to his room. Lunging onto his bed, he recognizes the small device, and lifts it above his head as he skims through his contacts.   
   
"Hello, Gerard." Frank's voice is deep in his right ear.   
   
A grin stretches across Gerard's face. "Wanna come over and play some video games?" he asks, knowing that Frank is someone he actually can beat at Mario Kart.   
   
There is no response for a few seconds, and Gerard is left hanging as he waits for Frank to talk. "I... can't," he mumbles. "The computer is telling me that I'm ill. I wouldn't want you to catch it."   
   
It takes a second for Gerard to think. "What do you mean... you're ill?" He's frowning into thin air, imagining Frank lying on his couch with a thermometer poking out of his mouth.   
   
The sound of Frank's breathing is all he hears for a quick moment. "Well it told me I had won at first," he tells him. "So I clicked the flashing lights, but then it was telling me I'd contracted a disease. Am I going to die?" Gerard hears him gulp. He can also hear the genuine worry in his tone.   
   
Gerard however, only lets out a strange cross between a sigh and a chuckle. "You've broken my computer? Already?"   
   
"How did you know that?"   
   
Gerard finds himself rolling his eyes. "Jesus, Frank... it's a virus.. You're not ill. It's the damn laptop."   
   
A pause.   
   
"Of course... I'll be right over."   
   
The phone hangs up, and Gerard is left alone to sit in the darkness shaking his head. The soft glow of his phone illuminates a small area of the black, making the air appear as a dark, gloomy green. Besides that, the only light that enters the room is the small slice of white that breaks in through the tiny window above Gerard's wardrobe. It slices through all of the crap on his floor, cutting his comic books and bed in half. For a moment, he briefly considers making an effort to turn his lamp on, but decides to fall backwards into his bed and close his eyes instead. Working on his new project until 4 AM probably wasn't a good idea, and despite being on his fifth coffee of the day, Gerard is exhausted. Frank won't be here for another half hour at least, so he rolls over and decides to let the darkness of his room overcome him.   
   
When he wakes back up, Frank is stood at  the end of his bed. He's staring at Gerard, as if waiting for him to finally rouse from his slumber. Gerard lets out a groan. "Don't do that, Frankie." His voice slurs, and he throws a pillow in Frank's general vicinity. "It's weird."   
   
Frank is barely a ghost in the black void of Gerard's basement. He moves to the other side of the room, and flips the light on. Gerard instantly cowers, protecting his eyes from the sudden invasion. "I didn't want to wake you," Frank explains, and runs a hand through his ebony hair. "You looked very peaceful."   
   
With another groan, Gerard sits up and stares at his friend. "Yeah?" He lifts an eyebrow. "Well suck it, Cullen. Wake me up next time."   
   
They go upstairs, and see that Mikey is still in charge of the games console. It takes some effort, but they manage to let him start a three player game. Frank doesn't know what he's doing, and simply drives into a lake, whereas Mikey and Gerard find themselves neck-and-neck. As usual, Mikey wins and Gerard moans at his defeat. "I say we try a team battle. Me and Frank against you and the computer," he proposes, and the others agree to it. Gerard wishes Ray was here, but they've barely even been hanging out recently. The last time he'd seen him, they'd been killing zombies together.   
   
Somehow on the next game, Gerard and Frank manage to over power the younger Way. It's only by a hair, but they scrape into the lead and roll in at first. Mikey looks disappointed, but Gerard is sure that he let them win on purpose. Gerard turns to Frank, and offers him his hand. "We did good - high five."   
   
Maybe he forgot that Frank would be confused, or perhaps Gerard just expected him to have picked it up by now. However, Frank frowns as he lifts a hand and instead of slapping it against Gerard's, he lets their fingers interlock. Mikey watches, and holds in a laugh before turning away and snorting at the ridiculous scene. Gerard watches Frank's throat for a quick second as he swallows, then their eyes meet. "I understand this means we have... gotten high together, Gerard."   
   
Gerard tears his hand away from Frank's. "Fucking hell. You're literally an alien," he snaps, trying not to show his amusement. Mikey however, is going out of his way to laugh in hysterics.   
   
Before Frank can make some smart-assed remark about him being human, Gerard jumps from his seat and gestures for him to follow. "You're staying over, right?" he asks, and receives a nod. They both trail outside, and Gerard sparks up a cigarette. "You can crash on the couch. Don't want you bothering me while I'm trying to paint."   
   
"Am I that much of a burden, Gerard?" Frank is walking just beside him, and they cover the length of the street rather slowly.   
   
Gerard takes a long drag from his cig, closing his eyes to relish the burning in his throat. "Nah - you're cool, man. One day I might show you my art. One day I might even let you be the subject of it."  Despite wanting to ramble on about his creative passions, Gerard notices that Frank is staring at the Marlboro red he has tucked into the side of his mouth. "What?" he questions. "No - let me guess. Gerard, why are you tainting your lungs with the unholy sin of nicotine and tar?" He deepens his voice, mocking Frank's lower grumble that he uses when he is confused.   
   
"That was a terrible impression. I don't believe in sins," Frank shakes his head in disapproval. "I was thinking more of asking you if I could try the ah... burning rod in your mouth."   
   
"It's called a cigarette, freaking dumbass."   
   
"Gerard, can I try the smoke thing or not?"   
   
Shrugging, Gerard takes it out of his mouth, and notices Frank lifting his hands to grab it. He gives the smaller boy a stern look, and twists the cigarette around so that the filter presses against his lips. Frank opens his mouth, and Gerard pushes it in. "Breath," the older smoker encourages. "Not too much - you'll cho-"   
   
Frank's face suddenly turns sour, and Gerard takes the stick away from him to put back in his own mouth. Frank begins to cough, and tears even well up in his eyes. "I didn't-" he splutters, a small amount of smoke wisping away from his pale lips. "- Enjoy that."   
   
"And that is why we haven't, and never will get high together," Gerard declares, tone flat.   
   
They keep walking together, and they just talk. Frank might not have very much to say about his past, but he has more than enough in regards of an opinion for whenever Gerard says something he doesn't agree with. He learns about a lot of things, and Gerard realizes just how far Frank has come in the last month or so. When they'd first met, the kid was clueless about everything around him. Now, he might still be confused when Gerard tries to crack a funny joke, but he's slowly adjusting to life. In a way, Gerard feels almost kind of proud.   
   
When it starts to get dark, Gerard suggests that they start making their way back home. It's cold, and Frank didn't bring a jacket, so Gerard tries to ignore how he's extra clingy tonight. He isn't like an annoying girlfriend; he doesn't latch himself onto Gerard, but he does stay close. Maybe too close to be considered normal, but he is freezing. Gerard tries to tell himself that he's just trying to stay warm, but he ends up throwing an arm around the younger boy's shoulders anyway.   
   
They get back to the house, and the first thing they notice is that Mikey has passed out on the couch. Gerard gives Frank a look of warning, telling him to remain quiet before they close the door and turns the light off. "You'll have to sleep in my room," Gerard says, leading him down. "It's not like you've never done it before I guess, so..."   
   
"I sleep on a blow up bed in the middle of the forest," Frank snorts, inserting a hint of humor. "I'm sure I can handle the floor and a blanket for the night."   
   
Gerard bites his lip. He doesn't want Frank to be uncomfortable; these little 'sleep-overs' are supposed to be a chance for him to not feel like an invalid living in the woods. He purses his lips for a moment, feeling like a sixteen year old boy. "Well I do have a double bed, and I... y'know. Just no cuddling or painting our nails as we talk about boys."   
   
Something mischevious is in Frank's eyes. "No cuddling and no nail painting," he repeats what he's just heard. "Gerard, I believe I am not a stereo-typed high school girl. All I want is a comfortable bed."   
   
Gerard looks away. "Ah, yeah. Okay. That's cool - or I can sleep on the floor if you like."   
   
//    
    
In the morning, Frank wakes up with his face pressed into Gerard's back. He lies there for a few minutes, listening to the sound of their breathing until it synchronizes. The room is still dark, but the thin morning light that filters through is enough to leave Frank staring at the dark colors of the quilt beneath him. A ghost of a smile rests on his lips for a minute, until he hears Gerard let out a small noise of exhaustion. They'd gotten in so late last night, that Frank had actually fallen asleep only moments after he'd laid his head down on the Gerard scented pillow. The owner of which, wouldn't be awake for hours yet if Frank doesn't disturb him.    
    
Carefully, he climbs out of the bed and stumbles over to the other side of the room. Gerard has a dressing table with a large mirror set up behind it, and Frank glances at himself quickly before silently slipping out of the the basement. He decides that he'll take a shower, then make a coffee for Gerard to wake him up pleasantly. The shower takes about forty minutes, as Frank can't help but find himself relaxing under the pounding hot water. Living in the woods is hard. He doesn't get the privilege of a this very often.    
    
He thinks about his stay at the Way's house, and smiles. It's not uncommon that he visits, but he's enjoyed this one just slightly more than the others. Usually Gerard would put on some very loud music, and Frank would sit on his laptop as he did some art. Last night had been more interesting, and for the first time since he'd been in the hospital overnight - he'd slept in a real bed.    
    
When he sees the living room door still is closed, he instantly thinks Mikey is still asleep. Then, he realizes he can see light under the door, suggesting otherwise. If he's already awake, then there should be no problem with going in. Before entering, he knocks lightly on the the wood, and hopes that Mikey won't mind being bothered so early in the morning. "Mikey, I was just about to make a coffee for Gerard, if you want one t-"    
    
Frank suddenly cuts himself off.    
    
Gerard's little brother is sat on the couch, staring into thin air as if he's in a trance. Frank begins to feel uncomfortable, and struggles with which words he should use. He can see that Mikey has been crying. "Are... you okay?" Frank asks, unsure of what to do. Mikey closes his eyes for a minute, before looking at Frank.     
    
"No," he says quietly. "No, just... fuck. Where is Gee?"    
    
"Asleep," Frank tells him. He moves closer and tries to soften the look on his face. "Has something happened?"    
    
For a moment, Mikey just looks sad. He looks young and scared, and Frank has never seen anyone like this, except on television. He's been around Mikey when he's angry before, but never upset. Not crying; not like this.    
    
Mikey looks down, and clears his throat slightly. "It's all gray, Frank." His voice is tired. "Everything is gray again."   
  



	9. CHAPTER NINE - ALL WE ARE IS DUST IN THE WIND.

Mikey's girlfriend died on a Tuesday. 

A freak aeroplane accident, they'd been told. It was all over the news, but Mikey didn't need to watch television in order to know that she was gone. The moment he'd woken up, he knew. The color had been washed from the world like it was nothing but a stain. Everything turned back into a tragic black and white film, and Mikey found himself all alone. 

Maybe something changed inside Gerard when he saw his brother like this. Something inside of him snapped, and now he knows that he has to protect Frank like his own life is on the line. In a way, it is. His art, his inspiration, his reason to live - it comes down to the simple things. Like admiring the swirl of brown as he pours milk into his coffee each morning. Or how he loves to watch his red paint drip onto an empty canvas, being the first thing to taint the flawless white. Little things like these are the ones that Gerard admires the most. He's not ready to give them up; not ever. 

Right now, Gerard is sat in the cabin. While Frank is still back at the Way's house searching for a charger, the artist becomes bored and begins to draw on his hands in sharpie. It starts out as lyrics, but the words slowly become drawings that move across his arm. He feels as if he's inked in an entire comic book by the time Frank gets back, charger in hand. 

"How is he?" Gerard is quick to ask, biting his lip after speaking. 

Frank closes the door behind him, and throws a mess of tangled wires onto the sofa before taking a seat beside Gerard. "He smelt like he was sweating alcohol," he says, not holding back on the honesty. "I think he drank your mother's entire wine collection." 

Gerard knows this isn't good. He feels stressed and worried; he can't begin to imagine what emotions Mikey is being thrown through. Eyebrows knotting together, Gerard finds himself feeling exasperated. It's been days since he last slept properly. If he's honest, he's scared that he'll wake up and everything he's gained will be gone. He wants anything but to carry Mikey's misfortune, and so he can't help but keep an eye on Frank at every chance he gets. 

"Gerard," Frank suddenly rouses the older man back into reality. Gerard eyes him with curiosity. "I think your brother meant to propose marriage after she arrived," he says, holding out a small box. 

Gerard finds himself nervous. "What?" he looks at the small blue object in Frank's hand. "You - Mikey was gonna ask Alicia to marry him and you... you took the fucking engagement ring?" He doesn't bother asking if Frank had requested permission for this, because Gerard knows that Mikey is a secretive mother fucker. Frank also seems to have a slight kleptomaniac side. 

"I'm borrowing it," Frank corrects. "I just wanted to show you. I'll put it right where I found it when we get back." 

Gerard wants to yell and call Frank stupid, but his head is too busy trying to accept that Mikey wanted to get married. Then again, who is Gerard to question? Mikey had seen color when he first met Alicia, and that in itself is undeniable proof that they are meant to be. However, when Gerard looks up at Frank, he just doesn't see the same thing. He can't imagine settling down with this boy - hardly even an adult - and starting a family. Lust is all Gerard can see through his hazel eyes, but romance and love? No. They aren't there. He doubts that Frank can even imagine Gerard as anything but his best friend. 

There is a soft silence between them, that Frank decides to break. "Do you want a family? Children, and a wife? I've always been curious, Gerard." His eyes are peering up at him, reminding Gerard of a child asking him for a bedtime story. 

It makes him smile, as the lust dissipates during moments like these. Frank's child-like innocence is something that Gerard finds cute in it's own way. "Yes and no. I dunno?" he answers, showing that he is clearly brilliant at explaining himself. "I had someone I loved once. I wanted to have a family with her, but I was young and well... duty called." 

Frank blinks. "You went to war?" 

"No, Frank. I mean my art." Gerard snorts at him, rolling his eyes. "But anyway, I fucked over the only hot chick to have ever paid attention to me, and now here I am. Single and lonely. But it's okay." 

"What's okay about being lonely? It's sad." Frank is biting his bottom lip, tilting his head to his question. 

Gerard breathes for a moment, then looks away. "I'm not lonely, lonely," he tries to say. "I mean I don't have some girl sucking me off every night. I don't have that, but I'm not lonely." 

"Ah. You mean to say you're not sexually active, but you still have friends and family." Frank nods to himself, proud of what he'd just figured out. "It makes much more sense now." 

In response, all Gerard does is laugh. The atmosphere is cheerful for a moment, before reality sinks back in again. His face becomes somber, and the room grows slightly cold. "What about you?" He turns his attention back to Frank. "Do you want to go out there, meet a girl and get married? Have three kids and a picket-fence garden kinda shit?" 

"No." Frank's answer is quick. His expression changes, and Gerard can almost see the thoughts shifting through his mind. "Well, what I mean to say is that it sounds a delightful future, but I wouldn't want to have false expectations as to what could happen." He sounds almost rehearsed, as if he's had plenty of time to think about the subject. "I'd rather just... see where my... boat floats me." 

Gerard's eyebrows lift in surprise. "Did you just use and understand a metaphor? Look at you - you're all grown up." 

Smiling, Frank lightly punches Gerard's arm. "I'm not as stupid as you think, Gerard. I've learned a lot since I recovered." His face is still gentle, but Gerard can feel a warning behind his words. He'd been thinking about it more and more often recently. Frank isn't a child; he's an adult, just like Gerard. He's also a fast learner, and Gerard knows that Frank is ready for the baby sitting to stop. However, Gerard himself doesn't want to let him run free just yet. He isn't even sure what Frank intends to do once he has his own place. Gerard hopes that he stays close and keeps in contact, but what if he doesn't want to do that? 

Surely, he wants his own life. He must want to follow his dreams, just like Gerard did. He left Lindsey for his art, so Frank should have every right to do the same. Although, he doesn't seem to have a passion. There is nothing pulling him away, but that doesn't mean that something won't come along. Something will, because it's human nature. People have dreams, and when there is nothing holding them back, they'll always pursue them. 

Gerard just doesn't know what Frank's dream is. The boy himself probably doesn't even know. All he has is the last couple of months he'd spent with Mikey and Gerard, then nineteen years of darkness behind that. It must be scary, the older man thinks. Not knowing anything about yourself - Gerard doesn't have much of a story to tell, but this idea still terrifies him. Really, all he can do is help Frank in any way that he can. He did run the kid over, after all. The least he can do is try to be of use. 

It's now that Frank snaps his fingers in front of Gerard's face, and he is back in the present. He's sat in the cabin with Frank. They're trying to fix his laptop for the millionth time. Frank had just gotten a different charger, and then they started talking about the future and stuff. Gerard swallows. His eyes flick to Frank's as he jumps slightly. "Yes?" 

"I think I got it to work," Frank looks pleased with himself, and points at the screen which is now displaying his desktop once again. Gerard blinks, staring at the dog Frank had set as his wallpaper. It's a husky. 

Gerard smiles, and rubs a hand on Frank's shoulder. "Congratulations, you've joined 2014. Is the internet working?" He clicks around, and pushes the net booster into a different USB port to try and find a signal. In the corner of the screen, a connection bar appears and Gerard grins. "Finally - okay I got it. You can go back to watching porn now." 

Frank rolls his eyes, recognizing Gerard's attempt at making him laugh. He smiles, then notices his friend standing up. "You're leaving?" Frank asks, voice drained. 

"I need to check on my brother. You mentioned him drinking a wine collection? He doesn't even like wine. This is getting really serious, Frank. You should stay here." Gerard gathers his things, and pulls his jacket back on to hide his doodles. "I'll call you tonight," he promises, and gives Frank one last glance. 

He doesn't catch on instantly. After a minute, his face lights up with realization. "Yes - sorry. I almost forgot." He gets up, and crosses the room to pass Gerard the small blue box. 

It's a short walk, and then Gerard is back at the Way household. 

His mother is stood in the hallway, talking animatedly to who Gerard believes to be one of Alicia's parents. She whispers something about Mikey and how he's coping, shaking her head sadly as she does so. Gerard slips past, trying not to to catch her attention. He'd rather not have to deal with what she has to say right now. His brother is more important. 

Gerard more or less has to follow the stench of beer to Mikey's room, where is he curled up on the bed. He's staring blankly at the television, watching an old re-run of Friends. A can of lager sits in one hand, and a cigarette in the other. Gerard didn't know Mikey smoked. It's not even lit though, and appears to have burned out. The older brother tries not to look at him with sympathy, but he can't help it. Mikey is a mess. 

"Hey," he murmurs, sitting at the edge of the bed. Mikey lets out a deep sigh, and rolls his eyes. 

"What?" he asks flatly. "Here to give me another one of your inspirational speeches? Fuck off, Gerard. I don't wanna talk to you." He turns his attention back to the TV. 

Gerard feels slightly abused by his words, but he refuses to leave. "You've been like this for weeks, Mikey," he informs him. "I'm not here to tell you she'll live on in your heart, I'm here to tell you to get off your lazy ass and go out. Have some fucking fun - you're rotting in here." 

"Yeah? Well maybe I wanna rot," Mikey's voice is slurred, his words running into each other. "There's no point. It's all fucking dull, my girlfriend is dead and this dumb show is the only thing getting me through life." He lifts his cigarette hand, and points at Joey. 

This is going to be as hard as Gerard guessed. Mikey is stubborn, but so is his older brother. He likes to think of it as a family trait. "I'm not saying you should go out, get wasted and fall in love with some other chick, this isn't a fucking Hollywood movie." Gerard tells him, tone cold. "I'm just trying to say that you still have a fucking life to sort out, and Jesus - how many weeks of college have you bunked off? Mikey you can't stay in bed forever." He leans backwards, biting his lip as he waits for a response. 

"I don't care," Mikey spits. "Just let me do this by myself, Gee. You're just making it worse and I want to be alone." 

The pause that follows his words makes Gerard's skin crawl. "Fix this," he orders, standing up. "Sort yourself out, Mikes. I kinda need you around sometimes, but you're always lying in bed drunk. So fix this - for me, for everyone. For fuck's sake, even Frank is worried about you." 

He can't be bothered with hearing what Mikey has to reply with. Gerard gives him a stern, but sad look before walking away. It was a short conversation, but he feels that he summarized his thoughts and finally got them across to his little brother. As he walks down to his room, Gerard remembers the engagement ring in his pocket. Sighing, he pulls it out and frowns, unsure of where to put it. 

Out of curiosity, he opens the small box, and draws in a breath at the sapphire stone inside, encased in a silver band. Gerard remembers Mikey mentioning how he and Alicia had met at the park, and the first thing he remembered seeing was the vast sky behind her. So, he'd bought her a blue stone. It's a tradition that most people tend to follow, and Mikey had been a sheep to follow it. Gerard finds himself feeling sad, because the concept of it had always made him smile. Now, Mikey would never see these colors again and everything would be bland. This makes Gerard even more desperate to hold onto what Mikey had lost, and he knows he has to do it for his art.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i was in a rush to write this chapter, so i apologize if it isn't as good as the others, and please ignore any typos as i didn't have time for a proof read
> 
> well anyways thanks guys, i wanted to just say something about how i'm really shocked that this fic even managed to gain any form of popularity. i really thought i'd end up throwing it away three chapters in, but i think i'll finish it because so far - i'm really enjoying this and i hope you guys are too. thank you so much for the support i've gotten so far ;^)
> 
> kudos/comment would be super appreciated
> 
> xofeb


	10. CHAPTER TEN - THOUGHT CRIMINAL.

"Thank you," Gerard smiles at the girl, not bothering to read her name tag. She hands him the coffee he'd been waiting nearly twenty minutes for, and he cups it in his gloves hands. The waitress floats elsewhere to take another order, and Gerard snuggles into his coat for warmth. When the hot coffee touches his lips, he finds himself suppressing a slight moan, and the delicious substance slides down his throat. He tries to savor it, knowing that he doesn't have any money left to buy another. Starbucks is something he's missed, and it feels like heaven to finally be sat in the small store as he sips away at his drink.  
  
He's trying to get away - just for one afternoon. A little time to himself is all Gerard wants, with no Frank or Mikey getting in the way. Coming here was the most obvious solution, and he'd decided to bring a notepad so that he could write down anything that came to him in a spark of much needed inspiration. Gerard had been writing a hat-full of lyrics lately, and scribbling them down in a small pad of paper had quickly grown into a habit. Maybe one day he'll turn them into a song, but for now they remain as nothing but words on a page. They'll probably stay like that forever.  
  
Nothing of importance comes to him, and by the time he's drained the last few dregs of his coffee, he realizes that his pen hasn't left a smudge of ink since he'd picked it up. With a tired shrug, he closes the book and rubs his hands together. It's nearly five o'clock, and he wonders if he's ready to leave just yet. Despite the time, the sky is dark and rain is hitting the ground hard outside. The streets are left looking cold and abused, barely a soul scattered amongst them. A young couple hurry down the beaten path, giggling and laughing to each other as they enter the cafe. One of them complains about being drenched, and Gerard suddenly finds them to be the most interesting thing in the room. He didn't realize that having time to himself would be this boring.  
  
Of course, it's now that the sound of his cell phone grabs his attention. He answers it, silencing the complex guitar solo he'd set as his ring tone. "Hello?"  
  
"It's me, I've decided on something and I thought I'd tell you," a familiar voice speaks to him, tone filled with excitement.  
  
Gerard draws in a weary sigh, but smiles. "Okay, well do tell," he says, and can almost see Frank grinning on the other side of the phone.  
  
"I have a lead," he announces. "On my past. I think I'm going to follow it, and try figure out my... story."  
  
It takes a moment for Gerard to let this sink in. His face twists into a frown, and he struggles for words. "I... I thought you didn't want to go after your past," he mumbles, confused. "I thought you wanted to just leave it."  
  
It takes no time for Frank to respond. "No, but I - yes. I have a lead, now. This changes things." Gerard isn't sure that he wants to agree. What if Frank's past is dangerous? Realistically, he knows that it isn't. He knows that Frank was probably just some normal kid, living with his parents. Parents that have most likely been worried sick for the last few months, terrified that their son is dead. This should be a reason for Gerard to feel a push towards helping him, but the sickening feeling in his gut dictates otherwise.  
  
He hesitates, but he voices his thoughts. "I don't think that's a good idea," he forces out, dreading Frank's reply. "I just - I dunno, Frank. I think the life you've built here is... safer."  
  
More silence.  
  
"I'm not saying that I want my old life back," Frank finally whispers, quietly but firm. "I may have once said I was scared that would happen, but I've learned since then. I'd like to stay here, I'm just curious."  
  
Gerard struggles to find a flaw within what he's declaring. It makes him feel nervous. He still doesn't want Frank to do this. "No," he murmurs. "No - Frank. It's dangerous to dig around. Just leave it."  
  
Someone is staring at him. Gerard realizes he's starting to cause a slight scene in the quiet, empty cafe. Frank doesn't know this, and neither would he care. He only spurs onwards. "You may have been the one to pick up the pieces, Gerard. But this is my life. I'm entitled to do whatever I like with it and you do not get a say in this. It's my choice." His tone is bitter; filled with resentment. It forces Gerard to feel a slight shiver, but he just tries to gulp away the cold guilt building up in the back of his throat.  
  
"We're not having this conversation, you hear me?" he hisses, eyes narrowed in annoyance as he glares at his coffee. Frank doesn't say anything. "We'll sort this out later."  
  
He ends the call.  
  
Instantly, a sigh escapes him as he falls backwards into the seat. The plush leather is soft, and almost a comfort - but Gerard feels like shit regardless. He lets his head roll backwards, and he stares up at the ceiling as he tries to work out just what his life has become. A train wreck? He'd like to use the expression, but he knows it isn't true. Gerard's life is where it should be, it's where he's always tried to aim for. Frank however, seems to possess the ability to crap all over any positive motions that Gerard is going through. The boy has a strange power over him, and he can't tell if that comes down to their 'bond', or whether it's just Frank himself. Maybe it's both.  
  
Gerard's mood is no longer consistent with the weather. He begins to feel the warm sun on his back, yet finds himself shivering underneath it. Light is breaking through the clearing storm clouds, and is now filling the cafe with it's golden rays. He uses this as his cue to leave, and Gerard drops a tip on the table before shoving his notebook in his coat pocket, and trudging back out into the street. The paths are still water-beaten, but each puddle holds reflections of the colors pouring down from the sky. Gerard would like to stop and admire it's beauty, but frankly, he does not give a fuck and would rather just curl up in bed. He's always found that hiding is easier - even if it's from what he's ached for all his life.  
  
//  
  
The first thing Gerard does when he arrives home is find Mikey. The second thing he does is snatch away his beer and tip it down the sink. The third thing he does is endure the pissed off vibes he begins to receive from his brother. "What have I done now?" he complains, seemingly fed up. Their mother must have also spoken him. Or maybe Ray - wherever he is.  
  
Gerard throws the empty beer bottle into the bin. "Nothing," Gerard glares at him. "But Frank has gone crazy and is suddenly turning into Sherlock freaking Holmes. Amnesia edition."  
  
Mikey shrugs. "So you thought you'd come take it out on me? Gee, I love you too." He turns away, looking bored and tired.  
  
"You don't care?" Gerard nearly growls. "Mikey, he's trying to figure out his fucking past. Now I don't know about you, but I've seen enough movies to know that this will either end up with him dead, or us dead - after he remembers he's a psychopathic murderer and kills us."   
  
A loud huff of air is pushed from Mikey's lips, and he closes his eyes. "Look, can I just go back to sleep? You're acting paranoid and I have a headache." His eyes bore into Gerard's, flashing green as they catch the light. The older brother shudders slightly, and forces himself to look away. Mikey takes this as an answer, and heads back upstairs to his room. Gerard finds himself with nothing to do, and notices a half empty beer that Mikey had abandoned on the kitchen counter.   
  
An internal argument begins to unfold in his head.  
  
It's just a beer, he tells himself. A freaking beer isn't going to do any harm. A few sips would be nothing compared to downing shot after short at the bar with Bert. Gerard thinks about this, wondering if he's safe to touch any form of alcohol. It's been months since the night he'd ran Frank down, which means that it's been months of him sober.  
  
Who was he kidding? Gerard knows that he is an alcoholic. He relied on nothing but the feeling of being drunk to get him through the better part of four years. Throwing that away is an accomplishment, and he constantly has to remind himself that he might as well keep going.  
  
After all, drinking that curse was the reason all of this had began. The bad parts of it anyway - such as running over an innocent boy and giving him brain damage.  
  
Gerard can't risk anything like that again. If he drinks now, he'll drink later, and the cycle will never end.  
  
The rational side of him seems to win, and Gerard drops his gaze from the bottle. He leaves the kitchen, feeling weak for even considering a relapse. If he's stayed clean this long, he can keep it going. He'll just have to paint instead. It's an escape, after all - and that's what getting drunk was. Essentially, they're both the same thing. Only one is healthy and creative, and another has the potential to take lives. Gerard likes to think of himself as a good man, and he knows which route he'd rather take.  
  
So he goes to his basement and does the same thing that's he does every night. Art. He pulls out a fresh canvas, and sets it up before drenching it in black. Part of it remains white, following the quick pencil sketch he'd created to use as a guideline. He fills in the detail, and leaves it to dry. After half an hour, he returns and begins applying crimson red to the piece. It features in nearly all of his paintings, and this one is going to be no exception. More details and more red and more black. The red is used to become blood once again, and it's splattered across their faces. It's a man and a woman, facing each other with their eyes closed. They both hold painful expressions, and it stirs something deep within Gerard. When he's done for the night, he puts it aside to dry. He'll finish it tomorrow.  
  
He lies in bed, and his mind returns to Frank. He thinks about him far too often, and although Gerard had tried to rid himself of the feelings he'd been hit with when he first met the ebony haired boy, he knows that they are still there. It's almost as if they're waiting. What he can't work out, is what they are waiting for.   
  
Gerard had initially assumed that they were waiting for Frank. After more thought though, he now stares at his posters, wide awake and drowning in a pool of doubt. Gerard is confusing himself, and he just doesn't know anything anymore. With each day, he's starting to wish he'd stayed with Lindsey, but then he considers it a blessing that Frank had brought a new view to the world upon him. With Lindsey, Gerard has no idea if he'd still be drinking. He also worries that he'd have given up on his art, and that he'd be stuck in an office somewhere, mindlessly following his job and orders. He'd sworn to himself years ago that he'd never let himself become tied up in such an ordeal, as he knows where his passions and dreams are. Individuality, creativity - color.   
  
And now he has all of these things, but he still feels empty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello yes and congratulations for making it this far
> 
> i just wanted to say something about frank's characterization, as i know it's completely OOC
> 
> it's a fic
> 
> it's fiction
> 
> it's my story
> 
> fucking suck an egg if you have a problem
> 
> but actually yes i'm really glad people are enjoying this, and i just wanted to talk through a few things. um, i'm thinking this fic will end at around 80-100k, and will be around 40 chapters long. i just wanted to let you guys know that so you're aware i'm not going to cut this short in anyway, and i promise to make sure i complete it.
> 
> xofeb
> 
> kudos/comment guys ily all


	11. CHAPTER ELEVEN - WE ANSWERED BACK.

"You might wanna look at this."  
  
Mikey walks into the room, waving a flyer in the air at his brother. Gerard frowns, and stops chewing his cereal. His spoon falls into the bowl, and a splash of milk lands on the table as Mikey shoves the paper in front of his face. "They're building a power-plant. Right on top of Frank's little cabin."  
  
Gerard doesn't listen to him, but reads it for himself. Disbelief is the first thing to show on his face, before he looks up at Mikey. He swallows a mouthful of food, then speaks. "They're demolishing the whole fucking forest?" He doesn't sound angry, but more worried. Gerard isn't a tree hugger, but he had loved to play in those woods as a child. What he is more concerned about, is just where the fuck Frank is going to go.   
  
Mikey nods, expression solemn. "Next weekend."  
  
The older brother pulls a face of disgust as stress settles over him. His eyes flick around the room, as a badly shaped plan begins to form in his head. "He can stay here," he tells Mikey in an unconvinced tone. "The police thing ended months ago. We can just tell Mom that he's a friend who needs a place to stay. She'll be fine with it."  
  
His brother looks doubtful. "It's not that easy," he says. "She'll figure something weird is going on. I think we should... I don't know. Maybe it's time Frank got a real apartment."  
  
Something tears through Gerard, and he stands up all of a sudden. His chair is pushed back, and he glares at Mikey. "No. No - he is not ready for that." He shakes his head, feeling a burst of sickness in his stomach.  
  
"Gee," Mikey says in that stupid, sympathetic tone. "He's not a child. Not anymore, I'm sure he can handle himself."  
  
Gerard gives him a definitive stare, sterning his gaze. "No, Mikey. It can't happen. He nearly killed a fucking prostitute the last time I  left him on his own for five minutes, and what if he does something worse? What if he walks into the fucking road and gets himself killed?"  
  
His words instantly backfire. "Last time that happened-" Mikey hisses. "-it was the drivers fault."  
  
Maybe guilt is just hardwired into Gerard's brain. He feels his insides twist, and he bites back at the tears threatening to appear. "Look, my point still stands," he insists. "The world is fucking dangerous and I just don't want him to get hurt."  
  
Something unrecognizable goes through Mikey's eyes. "Yeah. It's dangerous."  
  
"So what do we do then? Shall I call him or...?"  
  
Mikey sighs, and turns away slightly. "I mean it's dangerous, and people get fucking killed all the time - but you can't keep him locked up, Gerard. He's not a pet."  
  
More awkward silence, and Gerard feels even worse. Even his brother is against this, and it only adds to his conflicting emotions. Gerard sighs, but makes his mind up. "I'll explain to Mom that he's got nowhere to stay at the moment. Are you coming with me to get his things?"  
  
His little brother lets out a pissed off snort. "Yeah, whatever," he spits. "Because you're always fucking right about these things."  
  
Their little argument stops there, and they both head out to get in Gerard's car. As he pushes his keys into the ignition, the older brother thinks about how these fights are becoming more and more frequent. Before Frank existed in their lives, the two boys would barely disagree. They were best friends; inseparable. Gerard likes to think they still are, but there is too much negativity in the air. He knows Mikey's girlfriend had died last month, and that closure was something he was only now beginning to find - but everything still feels so dark. Sure, Gerard could look up and admire the blue sky, but it still feels as if gray storm clouds are circling his life.  
  
Mikey has it so much worse than he does, but Gerard still finds himself writhing in a mixture of self-pity and guilt. That's not mentioning the empty feeling that's drilled a cavity in his chest, leaving him feeling exposed and vulnerable. He doesn't even know why he feels like this, he just does. It scares him, and he can feel a repeat of Lindsey happening all over again. Only this time, his art is beginning to fail him as a medication and it's becoming less of a weapon in his hands. Gerard can see the talent behind each painting, but it feels like it's all for nothing.  
  
Artists are never recognized, anyway.  
  
No one understands them. No one understands what they create or the meaning behind what they do. A person can admire a beautiful portrait for a moment, but then it's forgotten. Maybe that's how Gerard feels - like he'll just be forgotten. Sometimes he thinks back to his days with Lindsey, and wonders if she even remembers him. She was beautiful and talented, and Gerard knows she could have anyone. Yet she chose him, the drunk emo kid who smoked too many cigarettes, and drank too many cups of coffee. Gerard sometimes hates her for it. He wished she'd never looked at him with pity in her eyes, or asked him to kiss her. He wishes she could have just left him alone to loathe himself.  
  
"Gee, stop day dreaming about anime porn - you just drove right past the entrance." Mikey's voice interrupts his line of thought, and Gerard blinks as his mind returns to Earth.   
  
"Fuck," he hisses, and turns around. At the south end of the forest, there is a dirt road that leads through to a large clearing. Beyond that, is the cabin which is only a few minute walk. They can park in the open space, then they'll be able to drive back with Frank and all of his things.  
  
Fighting past a few resistant plants, Mikey and Gerard make their way to Frank's house. Gerard knocks on the door, but doesn't wait for an answer before walking straight in. "Frank?" he calls, looking around the empty room. "Frank, you here?"  
  
When there is no answer, Gerard can only assume the worst. He and Mikey exchange a look of worry, and both begin to scour the entire place. Gerard even kicks in the bathroom door, and peers inside to see nothing but more bugs crawl from the shower head. Mikey checks through his wardrobe, and comments on how his things are still here. That means that Frank hasn't made a run for it, as even he can't be stupid enough to leave without any clothes or money.  
  
After another ten minutes of nervous searching, the entire room appears to have been attacked by a tornado. Despite their efforts, neither of the boys manage to find any indication to Frank's whereabouts. Just when they run out of ideas, Mikey glances at his brother. "Check his cell."  
  
Gerard nods. He brings his phone to his ear, and waits through a series of beeps. When he hears the first ring, Mikey frowns. "Is that... Metallica?" A frown deepens into Gerard's face, and they both turn to look at the door. Gerard's hand falls, and his cell phone hangs limp with it. The door opens, and more Metallica reaches their ears.   
  
At first, Frank doesn't even notice that his house has been invaded. After walking in, he carries the large flat box in his arms to his sofa, and puts it down before pulling his phone out of his pocket and answering it.  
  
"Frank?"  
  
The youngest of the three turns at the sound of Gerard's voice, and he stares at the older man as he presses his thumb down over the 'end call' button. He gapes, then begins to talk. "Gerard. What are you... doing here?"  
  
Gerard gulps. "I uh... we just-"  
  
"Why is my wardrobe three meters away from the wall?"  
  
Mikey shuffles, and becomes their appointed speaker. "Frank, we thought you'd gone missing," he explains, stepping forward. "But now you're... here and you've... dude, is that pizza?" The younger brother suddenly darts forward, and lands on the dusty couch beside the large box.  
  
"Yes," Frank admits. "I was going to invite both of you over - but you're already here." He smiles, looking at Gerard. There is a hint of venom in his eyes. They still haven't spoken in person about what they'd argued over the phone about. Gerard doesn't have the guts to say a word, and Frank seems to be testing just how long this will continue for. He seems to be almost enjoying it.  
  
"Well, hate to break it to you, but the party's canceled," Gerard announces, crossing his arms over his chest . "You're moving."  
  
"No I'm not," Frank argues, tone cold.  
  
Mikey scowls, and Gerard shrugs. "Do you wanna be bulldozed?" he asks, lifting his eyebrows. Frank reluctantly shakes his head. "Well, then you'll have to come back home with us. They're taking this forest down, and this little shack is going with it." He moves closer, and takes Frank's wrist into his hand. Their eyes meet, and Frank's breath hitches. Gerard can almost feel it's heat against his throat. "Pack your things, we're leaving in ten minutes."  
  
Due to Frank owning nothing more than some clothes and a broken laptop, the boys manage to squeeze everything into the boot of Gerard's car with ease. Nobody speaks, and Gerard ends up stabbing a finger into a button on his  CD player, and suddenly Black Flag fills the void. Despite the angry punk sound spilling through the car, everything still feels silent. Both Frank and Gerard can feel the tension between them, and Mikey appears to have just blanked out completely. They pull up outside the house, and each of them mentally prepare themselves.   
  
"It'll be fine," Gerard reminds them as they approach the front door. "Remember when Ray's dad kicked him out? Mom was fine with letting him stay over."  
  
Mikey looks unsure. "That's Ray though. Mom has known him since he was like seven." He's right, but Gerard doesn't let this pull any dark over his plan. He shrugs, then heads inside.   
  
Donna Way is sat in the kitchen, reading a book as she sips at a cup of coffee. "Mom." Gerard nods at her. She looks up, smiling.   
  
However, the smile quickly fades when she glances over her son's shoulder, and sees Frank stood beside Mikey. "Gerard. Who's your friend?" she asks, looking confused. He never brings people back to his house. Nobody but Toro.  
  
Gerard clears his throat, and anxiety fills his explanation. "Mom, meet Frank." He gestures for the smaller boy to step forward. "He's ah... my-"  
  
"Gerard," his mother cuts him off, quick and stern. Gerard blinks. "I can see where this is going."  
  
He isn't sure whether to feel relieved or cautious, so he simply frowns. "You do...?"  
  
She nods, pursing her lips before smiling sweetly at both of the boys. Mikey has disappeared, leaving them to fight by themselves. "I had a feeling this would happen, ever since you broke up with that Lindsey girl."  
  
Now it's Gerard who can see where this is going. Something drops within the depths of his stomach, and his palms become warm and sweaty. He rubs them against his jeans as Frank moves an inch closer to him. "Mom, I'm not gay," he defends himself, and he'd be right in any other situation.  
  
She laughs. "So you're not introducing me to your boyfriend? What a shame."  
  
"No..." Gerard drawls out. "He's my friend. He needs a place to stay, so he's gonna crash in my room for a while until he can get an apartment sorted out."   
  
His mother shrugs. "One day, Gerard. One day you'll wake up and realize."  
  
"Realize what?"  
  
"Nothing. Get out of my kitchen and take your friend's crap downstairs." She smiles again, sweet as ever. "Nice to meet you, Frank."  
  
Frank swallows, then nods in her direction. "Nice to meet you too, Mrs... Way."  
  
Before things can get anymore awkward, Gerard ushers Frank out of the room and they head to his basement. "Fuck," he groans, dragging a large bag full of his own clothes down the stairs. "I thought she was gonna flip."  
  
They both seat themselves on his bed, and Frank instantly lets himself get comfortable. "No, it seems she has a soft spot for homosexuals," he murmurs in response, and Gerard tries not to show any form of reaction.   
  
"Well," the older man says, standing up. "Welcome home. Don't touch my things, don't touch my art, don't climb into bed with me and no watching me while I sleep. I'll set up the camping mattress later."


	12. CHAPTER TWELVE - DO YOU MISS ME? 'CAUSE I MISS YOU TOO.

The blow-up bed lasted about forty eight hours in Gerard's bedroom.  
  
In the middle of the night on a Thursday, the large blue mattress met a pair of hair straighteners that had been long forgotten about. The results were devastating, and resulted in a partially melted and useless bed. Twenty minutes later, Frank is curled up in a nest of blankets and pillows that Gerard had made for him on the floor. There is no way that he's letting him sleep with him again, especially after what his mother had said to him on the first day of Frank half-officially living with them.  
   
Mikey is still lounging around the house, often with a beer in one hand and a distant look on his face. He seems to be recovering and moving past Alicia's death, but it's clear that the tragedy has scarred him. Gerard worries that his brother will never quite be the same again; if he's honest, he's scared that Mikey will become what his brother was just a few months ago. If not - worse. Both boys have been messes before, but neither of them had ever been quite as bad as this. Not until now.  
   
Gerard realizes that the only way he can really help is by making sure he doesn't fall back into his own bad habits. If both he and and his brother both sink into a similar state, Gerard knows that it will only end badly. So, he forces himself to smile and act positive. Surprisingly enough, a fair amount of it is genuine. He can feel himself being dragged down at times, but recently he feels better. Frank is filling the empty hole inside the house with his ridiculous naivety, and for once in his life - Gerard isn't lonely.  
   
A problem he has encountered however, is that he and Frank are still on partially negative terms. They haven't talked about anything meaningful, such as where Frank is going to go, or if he's going to pursue his past, and the last two days have been filled with nothing important. Maybe Gerard feels that he has to advance this in order for their relationship to progress, but he keeps his mouth closed. Not arguing with Frank makes life easier, and he's not willing to risk losing the boy. Not now, not after everything he's already been dragged through.  
   
It really isn't like the movies.  
   
Gerard has seen them, everyone has. Films about people falling in love through gray scale, people hating each other despite being able to see the blue in their eyes, people losing their color but miraculously finding it again - it doesn't feel anything like this for Gerard. He's utterly convinced that he isn't in love with Frank. It's easy to acknowledge the feelings, but it's also easy to shake them off as nothing but a teenage illusion. So, he just ignores them and prays that Frank doesn't feel a thing.  
   
"What are... what are you doing?" Mikey is hovering over Gerard. The older brother's face twitches slightly, a sign of irritation that should be taken as a warning. He panics and jerks,  swiftly opening a new tab on his internet browser.  
   
"Nothing," Gerard begins to insist, giving his brother a look of innocence.  
   
Mikey isn't an idiot. "Bullshit," he calls, and takes the laptop away. Gerard tries to reach out for it before Mikey can see what he was viewing, but it's too late. "Why are you looking at apartments?" he asks, a simple frown settling over his face.  
   
A shrug. "You said that uh, Frank needed a place?" Gerard is lying. After thinking about it all last night, and he'd formulated a plan. He's going to move out. With Frank.  
   
It makes sense, after all. Gerard is a twenty three year old man who still lives with his mother. Moving out should have been compulsory back when he left school, and he should have gotten his own apartment and a decent job like everybody else who didn't want to live through college. But as barely an adult, Gerard was scared and decided that his basement was the safest place for him. Things are different now. Gerard truly has grown up; he's stopped drinking, he's started his art again, and he has a purpose within keeping Frank safe.  
   
Still, he doesn't want to tell Mikey. He just isn't ready; he's not even sure if he's going to do this. But it's too late - Mikey's eyes have flicked across the screen, and are now staring at Gerard in curiosity and confusion. "And why would you try and hide this...? I thought you were scared Frank would be hit by a bus if he moved out."  
   
Gerard's hesitance is what makes Mikey begin to question things. It takes a second for him to open his mouth and speak. "I am scared, yes. That boy is a freaking butterfly, but you were right," he starts to say, trying to appear convinced. "He does need some independence."  
   
Mikey doesn't buy it. "Gerard, what are you planning?" He leans forward, resting his hands on the kitchen table.  
   
"Nothing."  
   
"Are you moving out?  
   
"No."  
   
"Are you..." Mikey's face washes out to a bleach white. He stares at Gerard, disbelief beginning to show in his eyes. "Gerard, are you... are you fucking Frank?"  
   
A chopped up sound of laughter escapes the older brother. "Funny, Mom asked me the same thing." Gerard then snatches his laptop away and shuts it down.  
   
"Gee, I need you to be honest with me." Mikey is closer, worry etched into his very being. "What is going on between you two?"  
   
For a moment, Gerard actually considers telling him. He wants to open his mouth and suddenly say 'your eyes are hazel, Mikes' but he can't, because he knows it's too late. All he's ever done is lie to his brother, and their relationship will fall to pieces if he finds out now. Yet, Gerard wants to burst into tears and ask Mikey for help. But he doesn't. Gerard is an adult and he needs to start acting like one. He needs to stop relying on those around him, and he need to face reality.  
   
It's a harsh, cold reality, but it's all that he has.  
   
So instead of coming clean, he simply sighs and looks away. "I just wanna look after him. He's like... it feels like he's my brother. And I wanna look after you too, Mikes. But you won't let me in." He sinks into his seat, just like how his depression sinks further into his chest.  
   
Mikey falls for the abrupt change of subject. "Don't - just don't go there, Gerard. You don't know anything." His tone is cold and his voice is final. One last shattering look at his brother, then Mikey walks out of the room and Gerard falls down even further.  
   
The entire room is cold, and Gerard decides that he feels blue. People had always referenced the chilling color with the feeling of sadness, and Gerard is only now understanding just why they would say that. Many people notice the sky first when they see the world without it's veil, and they can associate blue with feelings of happiness and warmth - but to someone who's vision was initially stained red, it's a dark contrast. He feels like everything around him is cold. It's as if there is no where he can turn to for warmth.  
   
Gerard finds himself thinking about the burn of alcohol as it would slide down his throat. He remembers how a sip of whisky could burn his entire body in the most delightful way, but he closes his eyes and tries to push all of it out of his cravings. Instead of breaking into his mother's liquor cabinet, he pushes a cigarette into his mouth and sparks it up. It's completely different to the fire ignited by drinking, but it still sends a small wave of heat throughout his body with each drag. When he finishes the smoke, he lets it fall from his finger tips as he leans his head back and sighs. He feels pathetic.  
   
Something in his life simply isn't working, and he has no idea how to fix it. It's like everything around him is broken; nothing works the way it's supposed to. He's meant to be in love, and he's supposed to feel happy drowning in his own art, but he feels as if he's the one who has just lost their girlfriend. Maybe he and Mikey should swap places. It would feel the same, and his brother wouldn't have to go through all of this despair for no reason. Gerard had heard what his mother had said the other night: their family is cursed. Everyone who thinks that they're finally content in life will have it all ripped out from beneath their feet.  
   
Again, even this factor seems broken for Gerard. What does he have to lose? A few pretty colors? Everything is telling him he has a significant other, but Gerard shakes his head to that. Maybe he does; but it's Frank who doesn't. None of it makes any sense. Maybe he is a freak, just like what the homophobes say about these kind of relationships. The functional ones, anyway.  
   
As he returns to his room, Gerard decides that he thinks too much. There is a constant fuzz of internal monologue raging inside his head, and hardly anything can make it go away. There was once a time that drawing could get rid of the incoherent thoughts, but now distractions do nothing but fuel it. It pisses him off - just by cutting himself whilst shaving, memories of blood will force themselves back into his head. Sometimes his hands will feel wet, slick with the scarlet liquid. He'll look down though, and he'll blink a few times. Nothing would be there, and he'd always know it was just his mind being a bitch to him.  
   
"You okay?" Frank asks as he stumbles into the basement, once again reflecting upon his life as he does so. Gerard nods, then collapses onto his bed.  
   
"Life sucks," he remarks.  
   
Frank shrugs, nodding quaintly before returning to his computer. "At least you have one that spans longer than four months."  
   
The older man groans, and throws a pillow across the room. It misses Frank, and hits a poster-covered wall before sinking to the ground. It lands with a soft noise, and a few pieces of paper scatter themselves away from it at the impact. "Have you even considered that you might have been a serial killer?" Gerard asks, stretching his arms out above his head.  
   
The dark room is silent for a moment. "No," Frank mumbles. "I don't feel like a bad person."  
   
"Just promise you won't slit my throat while I'm sleeping."  
   
Another sigh. "You know I'd never do that, Gerard."  
   
He rolls over in his bed, and wipes a hand across his face as he yawns. "I know," he says. "But the old you might not say the same."  
   
Frank doesn't respond, and Gerard is left listening to the sound of his fingers dancing across the keyboard. The small sounds fill any silence between them, and Gerard finds himself doing it all over again. His mind just clicks into action immediately, and he begins to wonder where Frank even came from. Jersey? Chicago? New York? It's impossible to tell.  
   
Then, Gerard starts to think about the more simple things. Who were Frank's favorite band? What was his favorite TV show? Favorite movie? Had he always been a vegetarian? Why had he gotten a tattoo of a Jack 'O Lantern?  
   
"What's your favorite color?" Gerard blurts out, before he has time to think.  
   
He looks up, and sees Frank lean back in his chair. "Green," he answers.  
   
Gerard tilts his head slightly, wondering why that was his choice. "Like the grass?"  
   
The chair that Frank is sat in swivels around, and Gerard is met with a pair of intense eyes. A smile reaches those warm brown orbs, and Gerard feels a tingle run through his body. "I guess you could say that," Frank finally replies, and the tug at the corner of his lips remains in place. He looks down and interlocks his hands. "By any chance is your favorite black?"  
   
Mocking insult, Gerard scowls and shakes his head. "That was kinda judgmental," he complains, gesturing to the on-going theme of black within his room. "But no - I like red. Always have, always will."  
   
Frank nods in acknowledgement, and smiles again before turning back to his computer. Gerard falls back into his bed and closes his eyes, his breathing slow as he begins to relax. It isn't long until he falls asleep, and drifts back into a colorless world.  
 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> did you guys listen to action cat?
> 
> xofeb


	13. CHAPTER THIRTEEN - DEATH OF THE LION HEART.

|  | Gerard wakes up surprisingly peacefully. For once, his bedroom light is still turned off and he's surrounded by a chilling darkness. Instead of being blinded, he opens his eyes slowly and sinks further into the soft mattress, wishing that every day could start like this. Naturally, calmly. No interruptions or Frank doing something ridiculous that causes Gerard to panic at six o'clock in the morning. Needless to say, this temporary bliss won't last long. Gerard is perfectly aware that within the next half hour, some kind of catastrophe will take place and stress will be piled over him.    
    
After ten minutes of residing within the quiet of his bed, he finally lets himself stretch and yawn, before he crawls out of his warm nest. He pulls on some pants and heads upstairs, hoping to find access to a coffee machine and some cigarettes. After having a caffeine boost and a dose of cancer, he hopes to take a hot shower so that he cam relax for a while. Then, he'd love to go back downstairs and start a new painting as he talks to Frank.    
    
Obviously, none of this goes according to plan. It's as he is pushing some coffee beans into the grinder that Mikey appears. "You might wanna check on Frank," he says, dumping himself into a chair. "Like, now."    
    
Initially, Gerard is simply confused. He doesn't know what Frank has done, but it can't be good. "What did he do?" he asks, unsure of whether he should make himself sound bored or not.    
    
Mikey snorts, and rolls his eyes. He's drunk. "I think he caught onto your little scheme." His hands do some kind of elaborate gesture in the air, before he slams them down on the table. "Something like that, anyway. He saw your laptop."    
    
"He what?" Gerard hisses, trying to hide the agitation in his tone. "He went through my stuff?"    
    
A shrug, then Mikey turns around to swipe a beer from the counter. "I dunno, dude. He just said something about a lead and New York and some other big fancy words that I don't understand."    
   
A strange noise of pain leaves Gerard's lips, and he curses before leaving the kitchen. He feels bad to admit it, but he's used to this kind of thing happening. Mikey will always suddenly appear, announcing that Frank is sticking a fork in the toaster, or that he's accidently washing his hands with lube rather than soap, and then Gerard will be left to sort out whatever mess is left of the incident. When he walks into the living room, his heart sinks slightly. Frank is doing something stupid alright, but it's not something humorous that they can all laugh about.   
   
He's stood in the middle of the room, with three large bags at his feet. Gerard notices that he's dressed to go out, and quickly realizes what is going on. He doesn't get a chance to confront the younger boy, because he's already looking up at Gerard with a modest smile. "Hello, Gerard," he greets him, something flickering in his eyes. He looks at the luggage surrounding him, then returns to his initial gaze with a hint of guilt on his face. "I'm... I'm moving out."   
   
Gerard's mouth hangs open, and it takes a moment for him to adjust. Frank had just announced that he was leaving, and he declared it as if he was proud of himself. "Uh... no you're not," is all Gerard can think of to say, and sounds awkward as he does so.   
   
Frank looks down. He purses his lips, and suddenly resembles a teacher lecturing a student. "Yes, I am," he speaks. "I'm leaving for New York. I have a lead, and I'm following it." His face is filled with an annoying smile, much to Gerard's disliking.    
   
"You can't leave," he tells him in a light tone, as if it's obvious. "Where would you go? You'd be homeless. You'd get yourself killed."   
   
Despite these facts, Frank looks determined. "You're right, it'll be incredibly dangerous." He nods to himself, revelation on his face. "Therefore you should stay here. It's safe in this house, and I have to do this on my own."   
   
Again, Gerard can't believe what he's hearing. They've been avoiding the topic of Frank's past since the day at the coffee shop, and it's done nothing but hang anvil-heavy in the air since.  "Frank, don't be stupid," he sighs, and steps forward to try and explain himself.   
   
Just as he's about to open his mouth, Frank cuts him short before he even has a chance to begin. "Gerard, you can't stop me from going. I have someone waiting for me." He nods again, trying to look informative and sure of himself. Gerard curses internally, attempting to fathom just how ridiculous this situation is.   
   
"Someone?" he asks with the arch of his eyebrow. Noticing that Frank had picked such a peculiar choice of words, he tilts his head to the side. He feels as if he's being cheated on. "Who is someone?"   
   
"The color, Gerard!" Frank exclaims, and he smiles again. "I finally understand it all now. The... the men in blue explained it - I have someone waiting for me back in New York. That person will be able to help me figure out who I was." His tone is filled with delight, making Gerard think of an excited six year old.   
   
But Frank is no six year old, and he is no child. Gerard had been uncertain until now, but Frank doesn't actually know who he is seeing color for. Whether this is a good thing or not, is something Gerard hasn't worked out yet. So far, the younger boy appears deluded into thinking that by finding his 'soul mate', he'll be able to recover his memories. Gerard feels sick at the thought. The only memory Gerard can give him is the one where he nearly killed the poor kid. That's something that neither of them ever have to discuss.   
   
"Frank, you said that you just wanted to find your past," says Gerard, dumbfounded. "You didn't tell me you wanted to leave."   
   
"Yes, but I have more information now. My stay in New York will last longer as I investigate." Frank starts rifling through his things, doing a double check that he has everything needed.   
   
Gerard sits down on the couch. "But it's dangerous. I'll come with you."   
   
"No, you won't."   
   
"Why not?"   
   
Frank stops to look up at him, a spark of rebellion in his eyes. "Because despite what you and your brother believe - I'm an adult."   
   
And it's now that the second half of this clicks into place. Gerard is overcome by realization, and he leans back on the sofa as his mouth opens slightly. Frank is doing this to prove a point. He's being a stubborn, stupid asshole - and he's doing it because he wants to show that he isn't a child. The idea is something that Gerard wants to plant his face into a table because of, and he knows that he has to do something to stop it. Frank is going to get himself killed, just because he wants to know about some memories, and so that he can give a big indirect 'fuck you' to Gerard.   
   
He's starting to understand just how his mother felt when he was an eighteen year old kid, fresh out of high school. Gerard was a defying, rebellious and cliched angry teenager. Frank is similar - only he doesn't understand anything, or what he could get himself wrapped up in. Gerard's responsibility over the boy instantly kicked in the moment he saw Frank's packed bags.   
   
So, he refuses to let this happen. Maybe he too is trying to prove a point - that Frank can't cope being on his own. Gerard is tempted to tell him to fuck off, so that he'll wander off into the night and realize just how disgusting and dark the world really is. However, and to Gerard's dismay, that would defeat the purpose and make things a million times worse. As an alternative, all Gerard can do is try and stop Frank from letting anything roll into place.   
   
He steps forward. "Frank, I can't let you do this," he informs him, desperation beginning to side his words. The younger boy ignores him, and continues to search through his bags. Gerard sighs, closing his eyes as he impatiently waits for Frank to finish what he's doing. When Frank stands up again, he looks relieved and is holding a small object. "Dude!" Gerard hisses, gaping at what Frank could possibly be proposing. "Is that a condom? Frank, that's a condom."   
   
Frank nods. "Yes, Gerard. See, I knew you'd say I'd be unsafe on my own - but I have this." He holds it up, waving it in the air for a moment. "Extra protection, and I'll need as much as that as possible. I even got one for you, too." Oblivious to the world and everything bad within it, Frank holds out the unopened condom, offering it to the older man. His eyes are large and sincere, peering up at Gerard from beneath his messy black locks.   
   
Ignoring the 'double ribbed for her pleasure' condom in Frank's hand, Gerard jerks forwards and points a finger at him. "This is exactly why I can't let you go. You're too damn fucking naive, Frank." His voice is a snarl. "You'll get yourself killed taking drugs from some junkie who claims it's goddamned pixie dust - or you'll walk straight into  some creepy white van with 'free candy' spray painted on the side. Do you wanna know what the candy men with white vans do to people, Frank? Do you?" He turns away, unable to bare Frank's innocent chocolate brown eyes for another second.   
   
"It's best I know, so that it doesn't happen," Frank says, eager to learn.   
   
Gerard scowls, and whips back around to face him. "They - they rape them, Frank. Or they scoop out your eyes and sell 'em. Hell, I once heard about some kid who was forced to eat his own foot. Point is, it's not fucking nice."   
   
"Well that does sound awful," Frank murmurs under his breath. "But I'm still going."   
   
Frustrated, Gerard lets out and agitated growl. His breathing becomes heavier as he seethes at Frank. "You are not allowed to step out of this house. I fucking mean it, don't you dare."   
   
Frank of course, takes this as his first indirect 'fuck you' towards Gerard. He gives him an arrogant look of defiance, almost smirking like a twelve year old caught talking in class. After reaching down and grabbing his bags, he walks straight past Gerard. "No," the older man growls. "No, you're not allowed. You try this and I'll lock you in the fucking basement." He rushes forward, and catches Frank's sleeve with his hand. Only then, Mikey appears.   
   
The younger Way seems slightly more sober than earlier, but he doesn't appear happy. He shoves his way infront of Frank, separating the two boys. Gerard has to move backwards, stumbling slightly as he curses at his younger brother. "You gotta let him do what he's gotta do," Mikey tells him honestly, pushing him further away. Frank stands just behind the door, unsure of where to go. He simply stares at Gerard, frowning. It pisses the oldest of the three off even more.   
   
"Fuck you, Mikes," he spits. "He'll get himself killed within twenty four hours of being out there."   
   
His brother laughs coldly at him. "So what; we're taking bets on how long Frank can last  out there, now? Really? Gee - let him go."   
   
He doesn't understand.   
   
"I can't," Gerard whines, sounding pathetic. "Mikey, I can't. He can't. It's dangerous."   
   
Frank is still waiting, as if he knows that it's rude to leave without permission. Or at least without Gerard noticing. It feels to him as if Mikey is supposed to be a distraction, so that Frank can slip away unseen. Yet he remains where he is. Gerard looks at him. "I'll call you," Frank says, trying to be encouraging. But there is doubt lining his tone.   
   
"See," Mikey says. "He'll call you. Everything will be fine."   
   
"But that's not gonna stop him from walking infront of a fucking train!"   
   
A stern look is passed between the two brothers. They both cut it short, then turn back to the situation at hand. Frank appears to be crossed between darting out of the door, and moving forward to hug and say goodbye to to Gerard. It leaves him looking awkward and unsure of himself. "I have things to keep me safe," he says, looking at the older brother. His eyes are wide, almost sympathetic. "Don't worry about me - here." He moves forward, and holds something out for Gerard. He scowls, before lifting his hand. Frank presses the object into his palm, then closes his fingers around it, ever so gently. Patting Gerard's hand away, Frank gives him a wry smile as their eyes meet again. "I'll be careful."   
   
And then, he leaves.   
   
He walks right out of the door, leaving the two boys staring at the blank space he was just occupying. Curiously, Mikey glances at Gerard's hand, wondering what Frank had given to him. Gerard curses, because he knows exactly what it is. He opens his hand to reveal a small blue, still unopened condom. "This is ridiculous," he growls.   
   
"Why'd he give you a... condom?" Mikey stares at the small packet, a face of confusion. "Are you sure you guys aren't fucking?"   
   
Gerard lets a few more curses roll from his tongue, before he stares out of the open door. "Just fucking great," he scowls, pissed off and embarrassed at the same time. "He fucking left, and the only stupid ass-sentimental bullshit thing he left me was a fucking condom. Well - screw you, Frank! Screw you!" He starts yelling out into the New Jersey daylight, Mikey a few feet behind him.   
   
"Well, yeah. You will be screwing him with that." Gerard turns around, and Mikey is pointing earnestly to the condom that he is still holding. Aggressively, Gerard shakes his head, before throwing the ridiculous gift into the small bin at the bottom of the stairs. "Fuck this," he growls, before storming down to his room.   
---  
  
 

   
  
|  |   
  
**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this chapter took so long - I had to re-write the whole thing. be glad you didn't get the original version, that was nasty. *shudders*
> 
> xofeb


	14. CHAPTER FOURTEEN - I WALK THIS EMPTY STREET.

It's been a week since Frank had left, and Gerard hasn't received a single one of those promised phone calls. He knows that it'd be easy enough for him to pick up his own cell and dial Frank's number, but he simply can't bring himself to do it. Something deep within his gut tells him that there's no point; that all he'd get in return would be his freaking voicemail. Gerard tries not to think about it, but he's sure that wherever Frank is - he's in trouble.

Granted, he's not dead yet.

Gerard can still see the burning red tip of his cigarette, and each day he wakes up feeling grateful for it. Essentially, it's all that he has left right now. His art feels pointless, and Mikey is barely approachable. With no Frank within the mix, Gerard is left with nothing. He should be taking this as a cue for him to suck it up and get a job, but he remains in bed, drinking coffee after coffee.

He wonders, as he stares at the brown remnants of his mug - is he going to die like this?

All he'd asked for was to not die in grayscale, and now that he has that, Gerard realizes that he's just going to die miserable instead. Some days he prefers the latter, and other days he wants to go back to living in ignorance, Lindsey at his side. But now he knows that it's too late. There is no relationship to be found with Frank, and Lindsey most likely either hates him now, or doesn't even remember him. It was years ago, afterall, and Gerard knows that she could have anyone she wanted. She was perfect, and Gerard could never be good enough for her, not really.

Maybe it's his own demons that have always stopped him from being happy. When he finally has a shot at it, he always fucks everything up, one way or another. With this thought in his head, Gerard only falls even further under. He's sinking into the same pit that his brother is in, only he doesn't know what he has lost. His art? Lindsey? Frank? He doesn't know what's doing this to him, so he just assumes that it's himself.

With a yearning sigh, he rolls out of bed and lands in the darkness he calls his bedroom floor. It's uncomfortable. Comic books, clothes, trash and art materials litter the area, making it ridiculous to move around in. However, Gerard just... can't be bothered. He doesn't see the point of getting to his feet, so he just stays where he is. A hair brush is pressed into his waist, but he ignores the slight pain is causes and closes his eyes. Somehow, he falls asleep again.

The next few days continue to pass like this. Everything is a gray blur, despite the world outside being bright and colorful - as colorful as Jersey can get, anyway. Mikey comes down to check on him, just as Gerard had done with him in the weeks that grew dark after Alicia died. He would usually bring coffee, fresh cigarettes, and a scowl. Most of the time, he'd be pissed at Gerard. He'd demand to know what the fuck is wrong with him, but his older brother would just shake his head and push him out of his room.

Once, his mother even came down to try knock some sense into him. She yelled a little, hugged him and even looked as if she was about to cry. She managed to leave the room before any tears spilled over, leaving Gerard feeling like an asshole. He doesn't know why he feels like this. He just does. So, all he can really do is blast Morrissey through his headphones and block everyone out.

Today, Mikey is at Ray's house, and their mother is away at work in LA. This leaves Gerard completely on his own, unsure of whether or not he should make use of the empty house. He'd only left his room to go use the toilet, or occasionally - the shower. With no one around though, Gerard's skin doesn't crawl as if he's constantly being watched, which makes him feel slightly better about going upstairs to raid the fridge.

The kitchen is cold and lonely, forcing a shiver to tremor throughout Gerard's body. He ignores it, and opens the fridge to pull out something to eat. He thinks of making a sandwich, but that thought quickly leaves his mind when he catches a glimpse of Mikey's vodka stash that their mother had been trying to get rid of. But it's still there, and Gerard is suddenly staring at the water-like liquid, his mouth turning dry.

It won't hurt anyone, will it?

Gerard isn't even sure why he's staying sober anymore. Sure, he'd hit Frank. He'd nearly killed that kid - but was it even down to the alcohol? Gerard starts making excuses in his head, trying to pin it all down to how it had been 4 AM. He was exhausted, and the street was pitch black. Could it have even been avoided? No, it couldn't, he tells himself. It had all happened for a reason, and now Gerard finds himself desperately trying to force the blame onto fate.

But it only creates more internal war within the confinements of his head. If it had happened for a reason, it could have been in order to stop Gerard from drinking. Either that, or it was a simple but cruel way for him to meet Frank. But now, Frank is gone. The alcohol is still here, and it's not as if Gerard has much else to lose.

With a reluctant sigh, he reaches out and takes the bottle. After removing the lid, he brings it to his lips and feels the cold glass scrape against his skin. It's almost seducing. Closing his eyes, he tips his head back and feels the rush of bitter poison enter his mouth, before he swallows it down with a grimace.

And that's it. Five months of denying himself his addiction - washed down the drain.

As he takes another sip, Gerard realizes that he has two options. He can either stop right where he is, put the drink away and pretend he never relapsed, or he can just give it up. It's not as if he has any responsibilities holding him back. It's not as if someone is going to die if he lets himself drown in alcohol, like his drinking days with Bert all over again. Gerard isn't stupid enough to make the same mistakes he had back then. He won't go to parties or gigs. He won't drive. Heck, it'll be rare for him to even leave the house.

Gerard smiles sadly. "Idiot," he tells himself, before drinking back the insult. Mikey and his mother are going to kill him, especially Mikey. Gerard had stolen his booze, afterall. But he doesn't care. Everything is simple again. Gerard will go back to his days before he saw red, only this time he'll have what he wanted. It's a win-win for everyone.

Frank can fuck off and find his memory, and Gerard can drink himself into oblivion. He shouldn't feel happy about this - but Gerard doesn't mind. Since when did he ever get the good side of life, anyway? The last few months had been a fucking rollercoaster, and sure, he'd enjoyed them - but that's about all he's ever going to get out his tiny little existence.

No, this story had never been in the movies before. Why? Because it's utterly pointless. It's unsatisfactory and builds up to nothing. Gerard had been given false expectations about everything in his life, and now it's more or less over. Gerard isn't dead, and he doesn't necessarily feel dead - but it's not as if he's doing anything to help the world. He's just wasting away, leaving a mess behind him.

Fuck, he feels ridiculous. The further he gets into the bottle, the more Gerard starts to realize that he's acting pathetic. Not that it bothers him - Gerard had always been kind of useless and cowardly. It's not as if someone he loved had been killed. It's not as if he's living Mikey's life. His younger brother had been thrown through the ultimate pile of crap, yet he's still going strong. He'd hit a few bumps in the road, but essentially Mikey is going to be okay. Gerard is the complete opposite. He's caved in over nothing.

And it's this fact that makes him drain the last few dregs, before dropping the glass bottle to the floor.

It crashes against the kitchen tiles, and splits in half. To Gerard, he almost sees it in slow-motion as each crystal separates itself from the rest of the body. Then, millions of miniscule shards shatter around his feet. They scatter randomly across the room, and Gerard snorts at the mess. His mother can clean it up. In this state, he'll only cut his hands to ribbons if he tries to sort any of this out. He decides to spare himself the pain. The red of his blood is something he'd rather not have to see.

After stumbling back down to his room, he manages to collapse onto his bed, drunk. Frank is again the key thing within his thoughts. Gerard decides that the boy is like a poison - not necessarily in a bad way, but he's all that Gerard can think about. Color came about because of him, so it's kind of hard for Gerard to not find his mind riddled with his name. Sometimes he tries to shut it out. Most of the time it doesn't work.

How many times has Gerard gone limp on his bed, the stench of alcohol thick in the air?

It depresses him that he has lost count. Months of sober nights, coffee and cigarettes had long-since replaced the prequel to his relapse, but now he's back under. Gerard likes to think of it as if he's drowning. He drinks himself into a mess, but every now and then he'll have time clean. His head will be above the water, and this metaphore is terrible. Again, Gerard doesn't care. Since Frank had appeared, his head had managed to rise above the water so his lungs could fill with air, or in this existence, life. Only now, he's back under, and he's choking on the water that has suddenly turned into whiskey, all over again.

He decides that he has another set of options in front of him. Number one would mean getting clean, finding a job, and keeping himself brain-dead enough not to need to drink. Number two is easier, but something he's been trying to stay away from. He'd just continue as he is; drinking, and drowning in self-loathe. Number three is the hardest, but the one Gerard would like to think he could actually manage to survive. He'd get rid of the booze, and he'd start painting again. He'd build his life back up to how it has been in the last few months, minus the amnesia-suffering-boy who had been there with him.

Gerard has Mikey, anyway. Maybe he could also get a girlfriend, somehow. Maybe he could just fill the gaps left behind with cute picket-fences, and a freshly cut lawn. A relationship would be nice, especially since any contenders (certainly not Lindsey or Frank) had fucked off to God knows where, leaving Gerard on his own. Besides, people are assholes and Gerard has always had a co-dependency so strong on his brother that some had even believed they were fucking. So, a girlfriend would actually be the best way to start this option, if he chooses it.

He falls asleep, and when he wakes back up with a raging headache and a foul tasting mouth, Gerard can hardly even remember what he'd been thinking about prior to this morning. Or afternoon, as his alarm clock informs him. He follows the outline of a routine he'd created and makes coffee, before finding Mikey and sitting himself beside his brother.

"You got drunk last night," Mikey says, deadpanned and straight forward. Gerard takes a sip of his drink, closing his eyes before placing the mug on the small coffee table.

"Don't remind me," he groans as a response. "I feel like Godzilla stamped on my head before letting Satan take a shit in my mouth."

Despite his ill attempt at humor, Mikey doesn't laugh or smile. His face grows dark, letting Gerard know that he should be worried. "You haven't drank anything since you nearly killed Frank," he says, disappointed.

Gerard doesn't listen to the under tone of pity within his brother's voice, he only snaps his head to face him with a slight growl. "Don't say his name," he spits. "Talk about him again and I'll break your fucking nose."

With this threat thick in the air, Mikey grows visibly uncomfortable. He knows that his brother is serious about this. After a few seconds of awkward silence between the two boys, Gerard slaps a hand on Mikey's back. "How about we call Ray?" he asks, instantly averting the subject away from anything alcohol or Frank related. "We can order in a pizza and watch Dawn of the Dead for the millionth time. Maybe play some video games, too. Man, I haven't seen that motherfucker in months."

It's nothing but a plot to hide from the reality of what is happening, but it doesn't matter. Mikey plays along by smiling slightly, nodding before reaching over to grab his cell phone. Gerard leans back against the couch, and takes his coffee back into nursing as he rests his feet on the table.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm really sorry about the slow update, but I currently have no computer or internet access. ill try to keep posting chapters, but it's going to be hard as i'm having to use my mothers computer, and my parents are assholes who like to spy on me as I type.
> 
> thanks for reading
> 
> kudos/comment/sub - i'd be very grateful <3
> 
> xofeb


	15. CHAPTER FIFTEEN - WHATS ON MY MIND.

Stepping outside of his own house makes Gerard feel uncomfortable. Breathing in the fresh Jersey air feels like a crime, as if he's breaking federal law just for leaving his basement. It's been too long since he'd had genuine sunlight brightening the path his feet walk along, and the warmth of it burning his shoulders. Today he's supposed to be meeting Mikey at the local diner, which Gerard already knows will lead to the inevitable assumption made by strangers that they're dating. Luckily, this is something they'd both grown used to over the years. Ignoring the looks of adoration and disgust is easy to do, and both of them go out of their way to address each other playfully as 'little brother' or 'big brother' with as many half-hearted slaps on the back as possible.

 

It's not as if they've ever acted as if they were a couple. Maybe they sometimes can get too comfortable around each other, but it's not as if they are trying to be seen as anything but two very close brothers. For some reason, people just seem to assume that they're cute together, and therefore they're dating. A few adoring looks can easily catch the attention of others, who won't respond quite as nicely, and therefore Mikey and Gerard get the homophobes giving them shit.

 

Neither brother really resembles his sibling in the slightest. Mikey is the cute one; the one with the slightly chubby face and goofy glasses. He's taller, thanks to the ridiculous growth spouts from his teenage years, making him a clumsy over-grown twenty two year old. Gerard is the scarier one, by default. With such a ray of sunshine by his side, his dark hair and brooding eyes instantly make him look like some kind of sleep deprived vampire. Sure, he has his high pitched pot-giggle, which most girls seem to find worth cooing over, and he also has his radiant smile that seems to overide his blood-sucking complextion, but it's always Mikey who is easier for people to approach.

 

When you look at the two boys stood next to each other, no, they don't look related. Looking closer though, there is something around the eyes. The same shade of hazel, and the same wise look about them, only Mikey's appearing slightly more innocent and young. Still, even if they weren't related, Gerard would still think of them as brothers.

 

After ordering a long-anticipated coffee, Gerard takes his seat on a cracked leather chair in the corner of the room. The material is warm from being in the sun all day, burning his arm slightly as he rests against it. The table in front of him is has dirt caked into it's crevices, and like a desk from high school, it has names and lyrics carved into the dark wood. Gerard is happy to read through the grafetti as he waits for his brother. It stops him from thinking about anything else - the things that have clouded his head relentlessly.

 

Just as he lets out a sickened snort at 'Jack X Molly 4 eva', Mikey appears at long last. Gerard looks up, abandoning his nostalgic throughts of high school with pleasure. He smiles. "You took your sweet ass time," he remarks half-heartedly, gesturing for his little brother to sit down. Mikey gives him a quick flash of a forced smile, but stays where he is. For a few seconds, he hovers before taking a seat across from his brother, the movement filled with hesitance. A waitress appears, delivering Gerard's coffee. She turns to Mikey, and asks what he's like to order.

 

"He'll have some pancakes. Ah, hold back on the syrup," Gerard answers for him, giving the waitress a shit-eating grin. She leaves, and Mikey frowns. His eyes capture Gerard's.

 

"What is going on with you?" he hisses, voice a low conspiracy whisper, as if someone could be listening. "I - you've been acting bi-polar as fuck. One minute you're all teenage angst and depression, then... then you've got that stupid ass smile on your face and you're flirting with everything you see." Mikey shakes his head as a sign of his confusion, but Gerard's passive expression doesn't falter. "Care to explain?"

 

The older brother shifts slightly, lifting his hands to point at his own face. "This smile?" He raises his eyebrows. "This smile is adorable. And smiling at someone doesn't equate to trying to get in their pants, Mikes. I'm just trying to brighten someone's day."

 

"Bullshit!" Mikey calls. "You've been a drunk mess for the last week and a half, so don't give me that happy cheerful crap when we both know there is something fucking you up."

 

For a minute, Gerard appears to be thinking, then suddenly a look of revalation floods his face. "Have you thought about dating again?" he blurts, words irrelevant.

 

Mikey flinches. "Gee, that's not-"

 

"No, no, no, hear me out," Gerard insists, pushing himself forward slightly. "This whole..." He lifts his hands, gesturing to the entirety of his younger brother. "This whole thing - this locking yourself up thing - it's not good for you. You need to get out more. Get laid."

 

Mikey's face is filled with confliction. "I can't believe you're saying this," he breathes, hair bouncing as he shakes his head.

 

"Seriously!" Gerard insists. He links his hands together, ducking his head in as if they're speaking taboo. "It's been months. You're allowed to see other people."

 

"And you're allowed to see people in general," Mikey spits. He considers bringing up what his brother had forbidden, but blows it out of the window. Instead, he re-aligns himself, noticing the daring look on Gerard's face. "I have a girlfriend," he announces.

 

Gerard doesn't let himself fall taken aback. He smiles. "I'd love to meet her."

 

"Her name is kristin," Mikey says slowly. "Kristin Blanford. She's ah, the same as me. With the gray." He flicks a hand up, gesturing towards the color filled world that Gerard shouldn't be able to see.

 

The older brother nods. He's taking in this information, trying to picture this mystery girlfriend in his head. He finds himself in doubt of her existance, assuming that she's just some kind of method Mikey had used to make Gerard shut up. "What's she like?"

 

Mikey clears his throat. "She has brown hair. Brown eyes. A gorgeous smile - she's ah, the same age as me, y'know. She's a nice girl."

 

Nodding, Gerard thinks to himself. Mikey had more or less just described Alicia, but that's probably something he'll never be able to admit aloud, even if this girl does exist.

 

"How are your pancakes?" Gerard suddenly points at the forgotten, untouched food infront of his brother.

 

Mikey shrugs, something on his face telling Gerard that he's not finished. "Gee," he says. "She's... um, she - I invited her to come and join us today."

 

From Mikey's seat, Gerard's gray eyes are filled with a quick wave of shock. "What?" he hisses. "You mean - she's real? She's here? Mikey, why the fuck didn't you tell me about this?" He layers on the questions, but recieves no attention as Mikey is suddenly distracted. "How long?" Gerard demands to know. "Mikey - how long?"

 

His younger brother ignores him and stands up, turning to face a nervous looking young woman. "You've got to be fucking kidding me," Gerard growls. He takes back what he thought about Alicia. The girl Mikey is smiling at is nothing like his ex. No short skirts, no ink, no piercings, no heavy eyeliner. She's more simple - pretty, attractive - but not at all holding the same fierce sexy look that Alicia had.

 

"Gerard, this is Kristin." Mikey is holding her hands, looking at his brother sincerly. Gerard slowly nods. "She's my girlfriend. Today marks our month anniversary."

 

Kristin smiles at him. "It's real nice to meet you, Gerard. Your brother has told me so much about you." Another sweet smile, but Gerard is frowning. Rudely, he mumbles something about a cliche, but Mikey is the only one who picks it up, earning Gerard a soul-shattering glare.

 

"Nice to meet you too, Krista" he forces himself to say, accompanied by a smile that could never meet his eyes.

 

"It's Kristin," she corrects him politely, but Gerard just waves her off and takes another sip of his coffee. "So, Mikey tells me you're an artist," she prompts. However, Gerard doesn't feel like talking. He wanted to spend some time with his brother, not some posh chick from New York.

 

So, Mikey speaks for him. "Yeah, he worked for the Cartoon Network, didn't you, Gee?" Gerard nods. Mikey turns back to his girlfriend. "He'salso writing a comic book, which is awesome," he says in a rushed, excited tone. A hint of pride is in his words. Gerard had always known that his brother had a special interest in Umbrella Acadamy, but both boys know that it's nothing more than a dream.

 

More awkward small talk is passed between them, but the chemistry that Mikey has with this girl is obvious. Gerard starts to feel like a third wheel, and wants nothing more than to go home. Nausia settles in his gut, and fuck - Gerard needs a drink and some cigarettes. Both preferably strong. Being around other people had never been Gerard's expertise, especially when that person is his brother's spontaneous girlfriend.

 

Before they all leave, and just before Gerard can escape to the safety of his car, Kristin appears and taps him on the shoulder. "Hey," she mumbles, and Gerard pauses, letting Mikey walk ahead of of him. He turns to face Kristin, who's face is filled with sincerity. "Look," she begins. "I just wanted to say thank you. Mikey... he, he's been through a lot. He's told me all about everything you've done for him, and I just - just wanted you to know how grateful I am. It's good to know that that he has someone there for him, so... thank you." Her explanation comes to an end, and Gerard is unsure of what to say.

 

He swallows, shifting his weight slightly. "He's my brother," he says. "I'd do anything for him."

 

Kristin smiles at him again, before skipping away to catch up with her boyfriend.

 

///

 

Gerard spends the next three hours in his room drinking as he tries to plow through a new sketch. This one is doesn't have a name just yet, but he's a character in Umbrella Acadamy. He's probably Gerard's favourite, maybe because he's an old man stuck inside of a child's body, with a talking monkey as his best friend. It's hard for Gerard to choose between him and Vanya a lot of the time - hell, Gerard gets overly-attatched to all of the characters he creates, even if he does end up killing them off. It's his art, so really he can do what ever he likes to them, even if that involves putting them through a living nightmare before bringing their lives to a slow and painful end. But he's not always a sadist regarding his comics. Sometimes he's nice to his characters, but Gerard just sees something poetic about death, so it becomes his favourite thing to use while telling a story.

 

He puts his art away, then switches his bedroom light off. Instantly, he's plunged into a chilling darkness, and he feels a jolt of panic rush through him. In a jittery movement, he reaches his desk before switching his computer on. Relishing in something of a brief calmness for a few moments, Gerard closes his eyes as he listens to the humming of his desktop starting up. When he opens them again, another strike of panic hits him. The screen he is staring at is grayscale.

 

"No..."

 

But it's black and white.

 

At this point, Gerard starts to freak out. His mind is jumping straight to a worst case scenario. As he breathes harder, the palms of his hands become clammy with sweat from the anxious feeling bulding up inside of him. Something burns in his stomach, then the next thing he knows, his fist hurts and his monitor has cut out completely. His breathing becomes more erratic as he reaches out, trying to fix what he'd just broken. Just as he feels tears stabbing at his eyes, the screen flashes back and everything is normal.

 

The color is back.

 

It takes a few seconds for Gerard to adjust, realizing that it was nothing more than a faulty wire. He looks down at his hands, blue in the light of the screen. "Fuck," he breathes, his heart rate returning to normal. After that, Gerard lets out a chopped up chuckle. He'd just been driven to the point of true terror over his crappy non-functional computer. He'd been pertrified. Color didn't actually even cross his mind, not in the way it should have.

 

All Gerard could think about was that idiot - Frank - lying dead in some dark motel room, his black blood seeping into the carpet.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had some issues uploading this, but I think its fixed now
> 
> I hope you enjoyed!
> 
> xofeb


	16. CHAPTER SIXTEEN - WHORES IN MY HEAD.

Gerard is fully aware of what he is doing as he slips a sliver of scotch into his 9 AM coffee. He's fully aware, but he's still blatantly ignorant. The drink ends up slightly stronger than he'd first anticipated it to be, but it's just what he needs in order to start his Sunday morning off. Squinting as he takes another sip, a low hiss leaves him before he looks up to see an unwelcomed presence enter the room. Upon first laying eyes on his mother, Gerard isn't sure whether or not he should attempt hiding the small metal flask sitting on the table. It takes just one more quick glance for him to see the disappointment settling onto her face, telling him that it's not worth the bother.

"This has to stop," she sighs, and Gerard feels his stomach drop. He'd been waiting for this to happen. Clearly uncomfortable, he stiffens, straightening his back as he stares into the depths of his mug. "Gerard," she says his name, firm but dampened with sadness. 

"Mom, I-"

Just with the shake of her head, he's cut off. "Give me that flask," she orders.

Gerard hesitates.

"Gerard, give me the flask."

Another few seconds of stalling, then he pushes the small container across to her over the table. It scrapes against the wood, surely to his mother's distaste.

She eyes him for a moment, then picks it up. It's already open, due to Gerard drinking from it only moments before she came in, when he had thought of hiding it. The silence between them only grows, until it's broken by the sound of liquid hitting the ground. She stares at him, and he stares at the momentary waterfall, before all of it has been poured out onto the ground. Their eyes meet again, both feeling a familiar distance between them. "I want you to do the same to every bottle you have in this house," she informs him. "Or you can pack your things and get the fuck out."

After her harsh confrontation, she promptly leaves, and Gerard suddenly feels cold. A shiver runs through his skin, raising goosebumps across his arms. He takes a sip of his coffee. Then, he blinks a few times, wishing he could be one to sit around and think about what he'd just been told, maybe hitting a stage of denial or confusion, but he knows exactly what he just heard, and he knows exactly what choices he has.

Choices.

It's always his decisions that seem to impact anything anymore, and he's always having to make them, no matter where he tries to hide. Get sober, don't get sober. Stay at home, don't stay at home. Find a job, find Frank.

So many options are being thrown at him, but he doesn't know how to choose the right ones every single damn time. And it's this very principle that only makes him drink more. It's his happy place or whatever; somewhere that real life doesn't exist anymore and he doesn't have to do or think about anything.

Gerard wonders if he'll ever break out of this ridiculous cycle. It's as if he's trapped in some cage, repeating the same life over and over again, nothing but an angst-filled blur of drinking, drugs, and losing everybody that he loves. That doesn't even begin to touch on the metaphorical storm clouds of doom that circle everything around him. Gerard is a fucking trainwreck, and he seems capable of taking just about every damn person he knows down with him.

He trails down to his basement, in a fashion that has grown monotonous from repetition, and thinks to himself. Why did this all happen? Why did he have to be cursed with this colour bullshit, even though everything is as good as black and white? At first Gerard had believed this was all some kind of twisted prize for giving a kid brain damage and sobering up, but now he realizes that it's a punishment.

God, Gerard is really starting to piss himself off.

He just wants everything to shut the fuck up. Silence - he wants silence. Nothing. Just him, his dark room, and a packet of cigarettes. Looking at his half drained bottle of vodka beside him, he snorts. He can't even be bothered to buy anything that isn't cheap and nasty. So, he picks it up and stares at it, tilting it from side to side, watching the substance inside slosh from left to right. Then, even shocking to himself, he launches it across the room.

With a crash, the bottle shatters against the wall. Glass spreads itself throughout the dark, giving Gerard an odd feeling of de ja vu and satisfaction. He suddenly feels an impulse to do it again, and for a moment his eyes widen as he searches for another object to break. But he restrains himself, and slumps back against his bed.

When Frank was here, he didn't do anything stupid. He didn't drink, and he guesses that it was all some strange way of not fucking the poor kid up. Gerard didn't want to taint what Frank had left of his naive innocence, and to do that he had to sort himself out. Hell, he'd done all of it subconsciously, not even realizing that he'd been clean for so many months before he left. Everything just seemed to work itself out, even if Frank was a pain in the ass and never failed to frustrate both Gerard and Mikey. But for a short time, Gerard had some kind of meaning, and that made him happy. He felt fulfilled, unlike the temporary satisfaction he gets from being drunk.

He's deep within thought, reflecting throughout his days or whatever you'd like to call it, when Mikey appears. Those thoughts are ripped away as Gerard opens his eyes and returns to reality, momentarily blinded by the light that suddenly surrounds him. "Turn that off," he groans, cowering away and lifting his hands to shield his eyes.

"Are you okay?" Mikey asks, voice panicked and rushed. Gerard squints at him. "I - I heard a crash, what happened?"

Gerard blinks, then he looks away to the mess of glass on the ground. Mikey suddenly yelps, jumping away from the sharp objects. He turns his gaze back up to his brother, face washed out and pale. "It's fine - get out," Gerard rolls over.

"It doesn't look fine to me, what the fuck is wrong with you?" Mikey's voice starts to grow persistent. Gerard knows he won't give up or leave any time soon.

Another exhausted groan. "Nothing, Mikes. I just - I dunno - I got angry."

"Angry? That's all?" Mikey glares. "Gerard do you even know just how much of a fucking mess you've been since Frank left?"

At his name, Gerard feels a flinch run through his body. After that, a wave of paranoia strikes him; Mikey is catching on. He panics. "Mikey - I-"

But he's cut short for the second time today. "Don't give me that bullshit!" Mikey yells, making his older brother immediately feel uncomfortable. "Gerard, I'm trying to fucking help you! Mom has already given up and you haven't even spoken to Ray properly in months! So guess what? It's all on me, and I've got to be the one to sort you the fuck out, because you keep cutting everyone else out of your goddammed life!"

He stops, with an inevitable silence following his words. Mikey pants slightly, his breathing ragged from frustration. "So, now I'm a fucking burden," Gerard growls, rolling his eyes spitefully. "Because that makes me feel so much better, Mikes."

"You're a pain in the ass," the younger of the two admits. "I hate this. I hate seeing you acting like that.. that Bert - drinking, and wasting your life away. I hate it, and I hate having to try and help you. But you know what?" He moves closer. "You're my brother, and I fucking love you. I won't let you do this to yourself. Not after everything you did for me."

His eyes are sincere, filled with worry and concern. Gerard almost loses himself in them, reeling from what his younger brother had to say. The ghost of the phrase 'I love you too, Mikes' lingers on his lips, but he bites back his words as he notices his brother's thoughtful expression. He suddenly jumps from the bed, making the springs bounce as he turns away. Confusion is thick in the air as Gerard watches, entranced by whatever it is that Mikey is doing. His younger brother starts rummaging through Gerard's wardrobe, pulling out a few of his favourite shirts, followed up by two pairs of nicely-fitting jeans. They're tossed to the ground, until there is a small heap, just a metre or so from the glass.

"What are you doing?" Gerard asks, frowning. By now he should be yelling, telling his brother to stop making a mess and to get the fuck out of his room. Only Gerard feels too captivated with curiosity to act on that, so he continues to stare. Mikey finds a large duffel bag - the one Gerard used for gym class years ago when he was still in high school. The clothes he'd picked out are thrown in, along with a can of deogerant and some shower gel. "I don't - I don't get it. I'm not going on an overnight field trip, Mikey. What are you...?"

His brother ignores him, but there is something in his eyes. Something bright and hopeful - something Gerard had barely seen in anyone recently. He keeps watching, and lets his frown deepen as Mikey goes around to the other side of the bed, before lifting up his sheets and plunging his hand deep into the matress. "Hey, hey what the fuck?" Only now does Gerard's voice rise, but Mikey's grin when he reappears makes him stop. He's holding a wad of cash in his hand, letting Gerard see the treasure before he places it on the bed. "How did you know that was there?"

"I'm not stupid," Mikey finally speaks, strained as he lifts the heavy duffel onto the bed. He carefully places the cash inside. "We've both seen it on TV before, and you forgot to lock your door that one time."

Gerard should be questioning just why his brother had been spying on him, but his attention turns to the other situation at hand. "Is Mom making you do this?" he asks, but receives a snort of amusement from his brother.

"Mom?" he laughs. "I don't think Mom would ah, pack your bags and send you off to New York to find your boyfriend."

Gerard flinches again. "He's not my-" Mikey glares at him, making Gerard swallow his complicated lies. "Mom was gonna kick me out."

Mikey nods. "Yeah. I heard all of it."

"So what are you doing?"

"Saving your ass," he retorts, but notices Gerard's confusion. He sighs. "Think of it as like... rehab. But not rehab. Personal rehab - like a soul quest. To find Frank."

"But I don't understand," Gerard shakes his head, trying to appear convincing. "Why would I want to go and find Frank?"

The younger brother gives him a look of dissatisfaction. "Look - I don't know what was going on between you two, but it's ah... well if you haven't noticed, it's kind of turned you into a depressing douchebag who's addicted to meth."

Gerard squints. "I'm not addicted to meth."

"That's not the point!" Mikey hisses. He places a hand on his brother's shoulder, and tilts his head slightly. "You're a mess. And the way I see it, you're gonna be a mess until you sort your shit out with that Frank. Man, whatever you did to that weird kid, or whatever happened - it's gonna haunt you for the rest of your life if you don't do something about it. Trust me, I lived it."

"So what am I supposed to do?" Gerard asks, and Mikey smiles slightly at the fact his brother is taking this into consideration.

"New York," Mikey says. "Go there, get a motel or something and find Frank. Then come back. You can't go wrong."

Gerard isn't as sure. "I - I, I dunno about this..."

"Wake up, Gerard!" Mikey is right up in his face, persistent as ever. "It's either this, or Mom kicks you out and you go live with Bert." Gerard's eyes stay on the ground. "Is there anything else that you need?" asks Mikey.

Gerard shakes his head.

"Well then you're good to go," his younger brother smiles, and stands up. He holds out a hand, and pulls his sibling to his feet. Gerard sways slightly, and blinks a few times before gulping. 

"Now?" He looks at Mikey.

"You haven't really got much to lose."

Gerard hesitates. Mikey hands him the bag, but the grip he takes it in with is weak. "I don't know if I can. I don't - I've never done something like this before," he admits, then looks into Mikey's eyes. "I'm scared."

Mikey's face is hardened with determination. "Then I'll come with you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed the chapter, and hopefully I have uploaded it correctly
> 
> xofeb


	17. CHAPTER SEVENTEEN - YOU'VE GOT TIME.

After seeing his fair share of films and television shows about serial killers, Gerard had always known that cheap motels weren't the nicest places to spend the night. Only now, he and Mikey both stand in room 109 of 'Chuck's Inn', a motel just off the motorway that leads them through NYC. There is mold, there are rats, but it isn't anything that's never been quite as bad as Gerard's room. Also, it's a given that the place is insanely cheap, and despite how long they stay here, accommodation shouldn't be taking too much a chunk out of their wallets. 

However, neither of the boys have any leads. All they know is that Frank had mentioned New York, and that he's looking for his past - something that both Gerard and Mikey are still completely clueless about. "Y'know," Mikey murmurs, more to himself than anyone as he boots up his laptop. "Maybe he's dead." 

It only takes a fraction of a second for him to work out that what he'd just said wasn't a great idea. He turns to Gerard, and immediately notices the blood draining from his face. From where Mikey sits, his face turns white - whiter than usual. From Gerard's point of view however, his skin burns and it's almost as if everything is red. He knows Mikey is wrong, but he can't admit to that. Maybe Gerard does have some kind of in-built Frank detector of a sorts, but Mikey can't know about that without Gerard having to explain everything from the day he'd first laid eyes on the boy. And that is something he doesn't know if he'll ever be prepared to do. 

Neither of them speak after that, and they spend the next few hours trying to rack up as much information using the internet as they possibly can. Mikey being the computer geek of the two, checks through all the local papers and searches for any incidents that Frank might have gotten caught up in. Gerard is lying on his bed, staring blankly at the ceiling when his brother finally finds something. 

"Hey, hey check this out," he calls, and a half-asleep Gerard clambers to his feet and stumbles across the room to where his brother is sat. 

"What is it?" he mumbles, yawning as he stretches. 

Mikey pulls the laptop across the table, and pushes it to his left so both of them can read. The extract he had found was something of a long-shot for them to work from, and Gerard thinks about pointing this out as he skims the article. "It's dated two weeks ago," Mikey informs him, pointing at the title that fills the top of the screen. "Apparently a couple months back, this woman - Linda Iero - filed a missing persons case. There's no pictures, but the kid described is said to be nineteen, about 5'4, with dark hair and brown eyes. She said the last time she spoke to him, he was heading out to New Jersey where he'd been mugged." 

"That explains why he had nothing with him when he went into hospital, but what about his name?" Gerard asks, pressing. "He came up with it after watching Donnie Darko so he... he can't be called Frank, right? Did she give a name?" Mikey nods at his words, and Gerard thinks to himself that he can't imagine calling him anything but Frank. 

"Anthony," Mikey states. "But his dad was a Frank - the kid was supposed to inherit it as his grandfather was a Frank, too. I'm not sure why they changed that... or why he thought of the name either." 

Gerard frowns. "How'd you even know that?" 

Mikey shrugs to himself, gesturing to the computer. "I erm, I pulled his birth records and stuff." 

Gerard nods in approval of his geek brother. "So the name, coincidence?" he then asks with the tilt of his eyebrow. "What about that uh, the doctor who spoke to us. He said Frank could remember some stuff, maybe ah, maybe Donnie Darko triggered it subconsciously?" 

Again, Mikey nods. "I think you're right." 

"So this Linda, she's his mom?" 

"It seems like that, yeah. But I've still got no pictures so I guess we can't be sure..." Mikey bites his lip, thoughtful in expression. 

Gerard isn't quite as deep within his own head, but he still has questions to ask. "So... we're at a dead end?" he asks, hopeful of an answer that says otherwise. 

A small smirk creeps up Mikey's face before he looks up, smug with himself. "I got her address. We can go see her first thing tomorrow morning." 

// 

The two brothers walk towards what they would both call a 'posh house', and trade a quick look of questioning. As they pause by the drive way, Gerard turns to his brother and bites his lip. "I don't like this," he mumbles, showing signs of distress. "What do we do? What do we say? We can't just do that whole Sam and Dean thing and pretend to be the FBI or whatever, and what if she doesn't wanna listen to us if we're not?" 

Mikey's eyebrows are furrowed together beneath the frame of his glasses. "I got this," he says, surprisingly confident. "Just - just follow my lead." 

And with that, the younger of the two begins marching up to the door, a hesitant Gerard in pursue. Mikey raps three times, ignoring the doorbell before stepping back and waiting to be answered. Gerard however, isn't feeling nearly as up to the task and stands there awkwardly, staring at his feet as he rubs his clammy palms against his jeans. 

A light appears in the hallway, and Gerard immediately stiffens, shooting an alarmed look at his brother. Mikey ignores him, and smiles when the door opens to reveal a woman in her fifties. She appears cautious, and uptight. She gives the boys a stern look. "Mrs Iero?" Mikey prompts, moving an inch closer. 

She raises an eyebrow, but doesn't look as if she's about to turn them away. "Miss," she states, matter-of-factly. "And you are?" 

"My name is Mikey, and this is my brother, Gerard," he gestures to his left. "We're friends with your son? Ah, we were just wondering if we could talk to him for a moment." 

Panic rifts throughout Gerard, and he tries to restrain himself from frowning or seeming suspicious. Linda folds her arms across her chest, and glares curiously at Mikey. "My son isn't here," she says. "He hasn't been for the last eight months. He's missing, weren't you aware of that?" 

Mikey swallows. "No, ma'am. We erm, see we haven't heard from him in a while and we-" 

"Oh, I see," she cuts him off. "You're from his band, right? The old one, not the new one." 

Mikey looks at his brother, silently asking for help. "Yeah!" Gerard blurts out, forcing himself to smile so that he appears at least slightly charismatic. "Th-the band! See, me and my brother here, we want to start things up again. Give it another go." 

It's quiet for a moment, and the boys wait to see if their story is convincing. Linda finally gives them a curt nod, and opens the door wider, gesturing for them to come inside. 

"So, when was the last time you spoke to Fr-Anthony?" Gerard asks, quickly trying to adjusting himself. They're all sat around a large coffee table, each with a hot mug in their hands. Gerard is the only one who drinks from his. 

"None of his friends call him that anymore....” she mumbles, shaking her head. “And like I said earlier, eight months ago," Linda informs them. "He was heading down to Jersey so he could... tour with that band of his. Only he called me a few hours after setting off, telling me he'd been robbed. They took everything he had." 

Mikey nods. "And his cell phone? So, you had no way of contacting him?" 

"That's right. He had to call me using a payphone," she confirms. 

"That was the last you heard from him?" Gerard asks. 

Linda sighs. "Yes. The police think it's possible that the person who mugged him... came back and..." the color Gerard can see in her face drains to a pale shade of gray. "They think it's possible he was killed." 

The atmosphere in the room instantly grows uncomfortable, making Mikey shuffle in his seat. "Excuse me," he murmurs, casting the clearly upset woman a look of sympathy. "I just ah - bladder problems." 

"I'll come with you," Gerard rushes to say. 

They both make an escape into the hallway, and as soon as they're in the clear, Mikey turns sharply to Gerard. "Man, we gotta tell her," he says, stressed and unsure of himself. 

"No," is his reply, fired back almost instantly. Gerard then pauses, and shifts his weight as he thinks to himself. "I mean, what if... what if he is dead? What if something happened?" And now he's outright lying to his brother, trying to figure out if he should pull a face of despair or not. "Look, what I'm saying is that we... we don't know shit yet," he tries to explain, but is blanked. 

Mikey shakes his head, clearly pained. They trade one last look, before Gerard is pushed back by his brother. Mikey heads back into the living room, and Gerard sighs and closes his eyes before following. "Miss Iero, thank you for letting us take up your time," Mikey smiles at her, polite as ever. 

“If you find anything...” she murmurs, looking unsure of herself. “Could you call me?” She pulls a pen out of her breast pocket, and scribbles down her number on a small scrap of paper. Mikey smiles at her when she pushes it into his hand, trying not to appear guilty.

She's clearly still upset, being the main reason for a the younger Way suddenly wanting to leave. After a few more formalities, the boys are back outside, and are heading down to their car. 

"What the fuck was that?" Gerard hisses, pulling the car door open as he glares at his little brother. "We weren't finished yet. I had more questions." 

The engine is kicked into gear. Mikey is driving today, as he always does when they share a car together. "Like you said," he begins. "We're not FBI. She'd have gotten suspicious if we'd have asked much else. The last thing we need right now is your boyfriend's mom thinking we're the guys who robbed him in the first place, just like she told us; back to finish the job or whatever." 

Gerard knows that he's right, but turns silent in oppose to admitting defeat. They're both tired, and neither of them can really be bothered with any disagreements or an argument. Instead, they decide not to talk, and drive back to the motel they'd booked. Exhausted, Gerard crashes onto the bed only seconds after entering the room, whereas Mikey takes on the task of calling his girlfriend. Their conversation is quick, ending with a soppy 'love you' from both parties. 

This captures Gerard's attention, and he suddenly frowns as an idea begins to unfold in his head. Mikey isn't paying attention, but when his brother suddenly shoots into an upright sitting position, he turns a curious eye toward him. "What if we could just... call him," he says, voice thick with a dream-like quality. 

Mikey tilts his head. "You... didn't already try that?" 

The look of stupidity that crosses Gerard's face confirms Mikey's suspicions. "I never thought about it," he defends himself. "Well, I did - but like... not recently." 

"Oh, for fuck's sake..." Mikey growls, but pulls his cell phone back out of his pocket. After dialing Frank's number, he lifts an eyebrow up in Gerard's direction. "Wanna do the honors?" 

He nods meekly, still lost within his own head. The cell is pushed into his hand, and he briefly glances up at his brother, before dropping his gaze to what he'd just been given. Biting his lip, Gerard feels another wave of heat wash through him, causing his palms to grow clammy once again. He presses his thumb down on the call button, then lifts it to his ear. 

Silence. 

Voicemail. 

At first, Gerard is disappointed that he couldn't reach him. However, a few seconds in, he hears Frank's voice message and listen closely. "... and if you're name is Gerard, then be sure to know that I am not dead - I think - and that I am currently staying with Sapphire." 

The line goes dead, leaving a confused Gerard in it's wake. Mikey is perked up by his side, waiting impatiently for some news. Gerard is still frowning. "I think he's left us a riddle?" he says, cocking his head to the side. 

"Frank left us a puzzle?" Mikey repeats. "What is this - Harry Potter?" 

A look of horror twists Gerard's face. "What if it's some kind of code? Mikes, what if he's in trouble?" With this, the different scenarios begin crashing down upon him, filling his head with as many gruesome situations as possible. It's only when Mikey shakes him by the shoulder that he snaps out of it. 

"Gee?" he asks, more worried for his brother than Frank. "What'd he say?" 

"Sapphire," he mumbles in response. "What does that mean? He says he's staying with Sapphire - what is that, a place? Or-" 

"Re-play it," Mikey orders, and Gerard does as he's told, zombified in his actions. After the message repeats itself, the younger sibling is deep in thought. "Maybe it is a code," he mumbles. "I can't really tell." 

His brother's doubt only stirs more anxiety within his gut, forcing Gerard to consider all the worst case scenarios possible. He swallows, nervous and almost scared. Mikey is less phased by the whole situation, and Gerard feels a pang of relent toward his brother because of this, but he knows that it's him who is blowing this out of proportion. "Get some rest," Mikey tells him softly, trying to be the reassuring one. "We'll figure this all out tomorrow." 

So, he lies back down and tries to sleep. The next few hours are spent staring at the ceiling, wide-eyed and fully awake, until he finally slips under and is dragged back into a black and white world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay guys, don't worry. all will be resolved pretty soon as I know some of you are growing impatient.
> 
> anyway, i'd like to ask a question that needs a critical approach.
> 
> what do you think regarding the pacing of the story?
> 
> I mean, is it going too fast? Too slow? We're coming up to nearly halfway through this thing, but I have plenty more to write about - and I want to do it right. I've read too many fics where it's started brilliantly, then halfway though just dissolved into a mess of cringy, OOC smut scenes. I don't want to lose sight of the plot, or character development. If you think I could imrove something, you need to tell me because I /refuse/ to make this fic become a let down like so many others. So I'd really appreciate it if you left a comment telling me what you think, but it doesn't just need to be about the pacing. Feel free to bring up any issues whatsoever, such as scenes that you thought didn't work well, times that the boys have been OOC (remember they're not exactly the MCR boys, such as Frank being Cas and all, so when I say OOC, I mean OOC within the story) or just anything you haven't liked.
> 
> Or tell me what you have liked, so far. If I know which parts you guys like, I can make sure to inco-orporate it into future chapters and y'know, make this fic the best it can be.
> 
> Anyway, wow - sorry for the long note - but I hope you've enjoyed the road so far! We've got about another 20 chapters/40k to go, and I hope to have the whole thing finished off in the next 6 weeks as it's Summer break over here, and I have plenty of time until I'm in college. Just trying to put things into perspective for you, but really - thank you so much for staying with me this far - and HOLY SHIT we broke 200 kudos the other night and I completely freaked the fuck out and basically spammed the shit out of Facebook in celabration.
> 
> Okay i'll shut up now
> 
> thanks for reading
> 
> xofeb


	18. CHAPTER EIGHTEEN - YOU'RE SHITTING BRICKS OF GOOD INTENTIONS.

Gerard thought it would be a good idea to visit an art gallery.  
   
Oh, how he was wrong.  
   
Today, Mikey is out trying to Sherlock his way through to finding Frank. The reason Gerard isn't with him, is because Mikey had told him to stay back at the motel. When the older of the two had woken up, he'd been chalk-board pale, and looking as if he was on the verge of death. Of course, Gerard insisted that he was fine and tried to go with him, but his younger brother simply wouldn't let that happen. Feeling like crap was already one thing for Gerard, but sitting around bored out of his mind was just something he couldn't cope with at the same  time.  
   
At first, he'd thought about also trying to look for Frank. He was going to solve this whole Sapphire fiasco, and prove to Mikey that he isn't entirely useless. Only it didn't take long for him to have second thoughts, as he realized that there'd be a large chance of him bumping into Mikey along the way. Mikey, who would cut his balls of if he saw him anywhere but lying in bed, thermometer in mouth and ice pack on his forehead.  
   
Then, Gerard had thought to himself; when was the last time he'd enjoyed himself? When was the last time he just let himself relax, without a bottle of alcohol in his hand? Gerard laughs,  remembering the time he'd taken Frank out to see a movie. When this is all over, they're all going to sit down and watch Finding Nemo together.  
   
The art gallery had been amazing at first, the fine art section imparticular. To Gerard, the world itself had turned a shade of beautiful half a year ago, but art like this had always been breathtaking. Many of the exhibits are in black and white, but there is still a strong case accounting for the vivid and brightness of the colored paintings. Galleries, museums and buyers in general are always desperate for the most amazing sights, and though not to discriminate against those who work in grayscale, they always want the colored works. At first, Gerard wanted to be one of those people; the rare artists who fill comic books with what only less than half the population can even see. Some see in grayscale, but have learned how to draw and paint in the colors that they're missing out on. Gerard wanted to do this - he'd tried, but he'd failed.  
   
That was when his quest for color began, with his late night drinking sessions and party-going. And once again, he finds himself thinking - it worked. It got him what he wanted, but in the end it was never complete. Not regarding his art anyway. But what if the person he'd hit hadn't been Frank? What if they weren't injured at all? What if that night, someone else had walked into the bar and caught Gerard's eye, filling the world with not blood, but light?  
   
Gerard isn't even sure if he'd want that or not.  
   
So, he stands in the art gallery. He's thinking, and as each one of these thoughts enter his head, Gerard starts to feel depressed. It's jealousy, anger but most of all - self pity.  
   
He feels like crap. He suddenly wants to be anywhere but New York. Away from art, away from people and away from Frank. Thoughts of simply driving home enter his mind, but pissing off Mikey is only going to make things worse. Maybe he can just go back to the motel and pretend he never left. Just as he's about to put this into action, his cell phone rings.  
   
The caller ID reads as 'nerd sibling', and that's when Gerard realizes that the motel is also not an option. With a weary sigh, he leaves and starts walking through the city. New York has been known to be a bland place, aside from the blaring advertisements and street lights. Being somewhere black and white seems to help, and the farther he walks, the more grayscale things seem to become. It isn't long until he realizes that he's wandering into dangerous territory; a street filed with graffiti and a line of strip clubs and other places all known as 'bad' to the general public. Gerard is feeling depressed, and he's surrounded by places that sell alcoholic beverages. Smart move.  
   
Feelings of light-headedness start to form, and Gerard feels dizzy as he spares a quick glance at each bar. There's a dull one at the end of the street; probably filled with members of the mafia, but Gerard doesn't care. It looks quieter than the rest, so he begins to head over to it, switching his phone off at the same time.  
   
It's a strip club; Gerard has only ever been in one before, and that was with Bert. Being drunk at the time, he doesn't have much to remember about it other than the embarrassing photos someone uploaded to the internet afterwards. So, he thinks to himself 'why the fuck not', and enters.  
   
There's an ongoing theme of blue within the place, along with flashing lights and music that Gerard can't quite pin to any genre he knows. Exotic dancers fill the scene, either dancing, serving drinks or just straight up groping and touching the cliched fat bald men who pay them to do so. Cringing, Gerard turns a blind eye and tries not to pay attention to them as he approaches the bar and sits down.  
   
"Man, you okay?" the bartender asks, noticing him as a customer. "Shit, you look like death."  
   
"I'm fine," Gerard mumbles. "Just - get me something strong."  
   
Noticing that it's none of his business, the bartender nods and fills a glass with a clear  liquid, before pushing it over to Gerard. He picks it up, and sniffs it curiously, before taking a small sip. Resisting the temptation to hiss, his face wrinkles slightly at how strong it is before he takes another. "Fuck," he mumbles. "This is good."  
   
"It's a specialty," the bartender laughs. He takes Gerard's empty glass and pours him some more, and that too disappears pretty quick.  
   
Six drinks later, and Gerard knows that he's drunk. It's not crazy drunk, like some of the people in here, but quiet drunk. He doesn't talk, he just keeps drinking until he feels almost as if he's not even there anymore. It isn't long before he feels a tap on his shoulder, and he turns around with a sluggish movement to face a woman in her early twenties. "Hey," she says, confident and sexy. "You look lonely, want some company?"  
   
She's a stripper, and Gerard doesn't really feel like having some hot Latino girl clambering all over him. "No thanks," he grunts, and turns back to the bar.  
   
However, she doesn't want to give up just yet. "My name is Misty," she introduces herself, probably fully aware that no one will ever believe that's her real name. "I can hook you up with a girl, if you'd like. You look like you're into the goth types... I think Destiny would make you feel better."  
   
She's caressing his chest, even though he keeps trying to shrug her off. "Destiny," he snorts. "Fucking original."  
   
"Actually," she says. "I don't you'd like Destiny. I think Sapphire is more your type."  
   
At that, Gerard freezes. Despite being drunk, Frank's voice message rings clear in his head and sets off an internal panic alarm. He whisks around, nearly falling off his stool in the movement. "Sapphire?" he repeats, tone rushed. Misty nods, slightly confused at his sudden enthusiasm. "Take me to Sapphire. Now."  
   
Gerard follows her into the back room, where there are more people and dancers mingling together. Is it possible that Frank could have really been taken in by a stripper? Gerard doubts it, thinking that Frank would be more likely to be a into librarians. But this is a better lead than any, and his sluggish state is only spurring him on.  
   
In the corner of the room, there's a girl stood by herself, picking at her nails. Dark eye make-up, long, black curling hair and red lipstick - Gerard swallows nervously at her appearance. She's kind of scary looking, but in a seductive way. Thoughts start to appear in Gerard's head, but he slaps himself internally. It's the alcohol talking.  
   
Misty disappears, and Gerard is left on his own. "Are you, uh - Sapphire?" he stammers, trying to look at her face and not her exposed chest.  
   
She nods, then smirks at him. "That's me. What can I do for you, darling?"  
   
Gerard shivers at the pet name. "I'm... I-I-"  
   
"You know, I only charge $60 if you wanna go somewhere private," she whispers, moving closer. "And for a change, you look like the kinda guy I wouldn't have to fake it with."  
   
Fuck. Gerard is paralyzed. "I need to ah, a-ask you something," he manages to say, unable to look her in the eye.  
   
She stops. "I don't do discounts."  
   
Gerard pulls backwards. "No, no!" he shakes his head violently. "No, I don't want to have sex with you, I-"  
   
"You don't?" she lifts an eyebrow.  
   
"No, no, I do-" he stops. "I, no... listen. I'm looking for my friend," he finally begins to explain. "His name is Frank, strange kid - about nineteen years old."  
   
A look of familiarity flashes across her face. Gerard perks up, praying that he's got this right. "Amnesia?" she asks.  
   
"Yes, that's him. I need to see him," Gerard's voice is starting to take a slightly desperate tone. "Please."  
   
She nods. "I found your friend wandering about outside, and he had no idea where the fuck he was," she tells him, tilting her head. "Said something about trying to recover his memories and some other crazy shit, so I kinda - I dunno. He had these puppy eyes," she mentions. He nods at her, very familiar with the puppy looks. "Anyway, I felt I'd be an asshole leaving him outside, so I let him stay in a spare room upstairs."  
   
"Can you ah, can you get him?" he asks nervously.  
   
Sapphire looks as if she's just about to go and fetch him, when she stops. Her face fills with curiosity. "Are you Gerard?" she asks.  
   
"Gerard Way, yeah," he breathes.  
   
"Just wanted to say," she shrugs. "The kid's like gay for you or something fucked up like that. Wouldn't fucking shut up about you the night I met him."  
   
This makes something in Gerard's chest feel warm, and he finds himself smiling like a teenage girl.  
   
A moment later, Sapphire heads upstairs, and Gerard wanders back outside. He'd told her he'd be by the entrance getting some air. So, he waits a few minutes, smoking a cigarette due to feeling nervous. Only he's drunk, and some of the adrenaline has died down and he's starting to feel nauseous. Another swoop of dizziness hits him, and he drops his smoke to the ground. Stumbling through a headache, he catches himself on a wall before he can fall down, and realizes that yeah; Mikey was right. He is too ill to be out on a fucking adventure.  
   
Breathing heavy, Gerard starts coughing as he stumbles over to a trash can. Doubled over, he feels vomit tear up through his throat, before retching it painfully into the bin. He pushes himself away, wiping his face as the world starts to spin around him, and when he turns around, he only manages to smile at Frank for a second before everything tuns black.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wooo i was really pumped from all the positive feedback you guys gave me so i had to write another chapter right away. also, i really wanted to respond to all of your comments but fuck i couldn't think of anything much esle to say than 'tysm for reading omg ily omg i can't believe you guys like this tysm holy moly' - and as you can tell most of that isn't even readable.
> 
> but thank you, and i'm glad you guys all like this story the way it is. hope you enjoyed the chapter, but i must say than now frank is back in the equation, it's going to be getting much more interesting *snickers*
> 
> xofeb
> 
> (also ty to marni for helping me with the idea for this chapter)


	19. CHAPTER NINETEEN - PAVING YOUR WAY TO PARADISE.

Everything is fuzzy when Gerard finally opens his eyes. The first thing he notices is the splitting pain running through his skull, and just how hard it is for him to focus on something. The second thing he notices is that his whole body is aching painfully, and he has no idea why. Eventually, his eyes manage to adjust, but it only makes his head hurt even more as he tries to prop himself up onto his elbows. Upon scanning his surroundings, Gerard realizes that he's in a room. His motel room; and he's lying in bed, wearing the pajamas he'd packed. Only he doesn't remember ever changing into them, and neither does he recall going to bed or even returning home after journeying out into the city.   
   
No one else is present, and so Gerard is left to figure out just what had happened by himself. After a few minutes of deep concentration, it all comes back to him. The night club, Frank, the vomiting, and then what must have been him passing out. After he realizes all of this, Gerard frowns again, this time at his pajamas which he certainly didn't change himself into. Upon further inspection, he finds a thermometer by his pillow and a bag of frozen peas on the floor.    
   
"Dammit, Frank..."  he growls under his breath.    
   
Just as he's about to get up, the door opens and the strong scent of coffee enters the room. What follows the delicious smell is then a familiar face; one currently filled with determination and a sense of responsibility. Gerard lurches forward at the sight of him, shocked, even though he could see it coming. "Gerard," Frank says. His voice is stern, as if the older boy has done something wrong. "You have to lie back down, you're ill."   
   
But Gerard wouldn't care if he'd just been diagnosed with terminal cancer - Frank is stood in front of him, holding a cup of coffee in his right hand, and a cheeseburger in the other. And fuck, Gerard hasn't ever felt so pleased to see him.   
   
Yet even though he's happy, he's also confused and finds a frown settling deep into his face. "Frank," he breathes his name, unsure of how to look at him. "You were... you were at a-"   
   
"Gerard, calm down. You need to get back in bed," Frank doesn't let him speak. Spellbound, Gerard does as he's told, not breaking eye contact with him as he does so. "I need to take your temperature again, so open your mouth and say ahhh."   
   
"Frank, where's Mikey?" Gerard asks, completely ignoring what Frank had just said. The younger of the two sets down the coffee and and cheeseburger onto the side table, before picking up the thermometer and advancing towards Gerard.   
   
"Hold still..." Frank instructs, trying to lift Gerard's chin with his free hand to keep his head in place.   
   
Gerard ignores him. "Frank, where is my brother?"   
   
The strange boy only continues to prod at Gerard's face. Eventually, Gerard grows sick of it and pushes Frank's hands away, gesturing for him to step backwards. "Frank, what the fuck is going on?" he demands to know, moving out of the way so that Frank can sit beside him. Only he remains hovering in front of him instead.   
   
"You passed out," he explains, but doesn't particularly fill Gerard in. "You have the flu, Gerard, and I can't help you if you don't help me. Now let me check if your fever has gone down."   
   
"I'm fine!" Gerard snaps. "Goddammit, Frank. It's just a headache. Get that thing away from me."   
   
Hesitantly, the brunette backs down and takes a seat beside Gerard. He then leans over him, reaching right across Gerard's body to grab the coffee. He sits back up, then offers the drink to his friend. "Mikey told me you could fuck a coffee," Frank says, dead serious , eyes boring into Gerard's as intensely as possible.  
   
Gerard is the first to break out of it. He takes the mug, blinking a few times. "Fuck a coffee," he repeats.   
   
"Yes, it's a joke," Frank remarks, moving closer to him so that their legs brush together. "You're not actually supposed to mate with it, but it will taste very good instead."   
   
Gerard spares a questioning glance at him, lifting an eyebrow. Frank looks proud of himself. Gosh, how did he survive out here for so long, Gerard wonders to himself.   
   
He takes a sip, then tries to pretend that it doesn't taste like liquidized cardboard heated over. "So you've seen my brother?" Gerard asks, grimacing slightly.   
   
Frank purses his lips together, then nods. "I called his cell phone as soon as I confirmed you were still alive," he says, tone heavy and dark. "He came as soon as he could. He's out right now, I think he said something about needing gas."   
   
"Gas..." Gerard mumbles, nodding absentmindedly. So far, they both seem to be avoiding what could be on both their minds, or maybe just Gerard's. He swallows, then looks up at Frank. Only he doesn't just look at him, he pays attention. It feels surreal, as if he's dreaming. However, his perfectly chiseled jaw and full lips are just an arms away from reaching out and touching, telling Gerard that this is real. His imagination could never portray Frank in a way so flawless as the one sat beside him.   
   
It makes his stomach tingle, a strange mix of excitement and anxiety both stirring in his stomach. He feels nauseous and scared, and he doesn't know why. Suddenly, Frank looks up at him and their eyes connect. "Is there something in my eye?" the younger boy asks, forcing Gerard to swallow nervously.   
   
"No," he replies quickly. "I just ah - I'm wondering. Did you ever find anything? From your lead?"   
   
The look of disappointment on Frank's face is enough for Gerard. "No, I... Sadly my investigation didn't get very far. I was considering returning to Jersey, but now you're here..."   
   
"What does that mean?" asks Gerard, confused by Frank's criptic language. "Frank you used some shady past tense there and it's making me think some things that I don't like."   
   
Frank stiffens. "You're scared that I now intend to stay," he points out.   
   
"Well - yeah," Gerard's eyes widen, voice raising. "Frank, I've been clawing my fucking hair out over this - I thought you'd end up in some creepy trafficking ring or something."   
   
His burst of panic clearly shocks Frank slightly, and he frowns, narrowing his eyes at Gerard. "Why do you care about me so much, Gerard?"   
   
The question hits Gerard like a ton of bricks. He doesn't know how to answer it, and so he looks down at his feet. "I just don't want you do get hurt." In a flash, he glances back up. "I care about you, Frank."   
   
It's almost as if Frank has never had a friend in the world before. "Why?" Frank whispers.   
   
Gerard smiles at him. "Remember when I came to visit you at the hospital? The first time we met?"   
   
"Of course." Frank's lips pull upwards slightly.   
   
"Well," begins Gerard. "What did I say to you just before I left?"   
   
He shrugs. "Goodbye?"   
   
A chuckle. "No." Gerard shakes his head. "I asked if I could be your friend, Frank."   
   
Understanding of what Gerard is trying say starts to wash over Frank's face. He looks back into Gerard's eyes, smiling properly now. "I shook your hand."   
   
"Yeah," laughs the older man. "And we became friends. Know what friends do for each other?" It's almost painful for Gerard to be saying this. Friends. That's all they are, but they're so much more at the same time.    
   
Frank's eyes are filled with joy, as if he's looking back on the best memory of his life. "Friends look out for each other," he breathes, captured in Gerard's gaze.   
  
"Yeah," says Gerard, before reaching out and pulling Frank into a hug. He relishes in the moment for as long as possible, resting his hands on the small of Frank's back. Frank's arms are around his neck, and he burrows his face into Gerard's hair. Their bodies are pressed right up against each other, and it feels warm and safe. The younger of the two clings on tightly, as if he's never hugged a human being before.   
   
Which to a certain extent, is true. Before the accident - in his mind - Frank had never even experienced human interaction until he met Gerard. Inevitably, a bond had grown between them because of that, and it doesn't matter whether or not Gerard saw red or gray when Frank's blood covered his hands, because the feelings would still be the same.   
   
And that is an entirely different love to the one they'd been subjected to so far. It's invisible, it's black and white; and it's so simple. It's also caught them off guard, and the early beginnings of the idea are only now starting to form in Gerard's mind.   
   
The boys stare at each other for another brief second, before Gerard clears his throat and stands up. "I guess that means we're going home," he says, turning to look down at Frank. A big pair of wide, brown eyes peer up at him. He hasn't said anything in reply to what Gerard had told him, but the content look of happiness on his face is more than enough.    
   
"Yeah," Frank then says, also pulling himself to his feet. "We're going home - I, am I still permitted to stay in your room, Gerard?" he asks the question in a shy voice, as if he's scared that Gerard would say otherwise.   
   
Gerard slaps a hand on the shorter man's shoulder. "Only if you clean the place for me."   
   
They laugh it off, and everything seems to be rolling smoothly again. Except Gerard still feels nauseous, and it isn't due to the butterflies he gets when his skin touches Frank's, and it isn't because he's still feeling like death. It's guilt. They found the biggest lead they could as to identifying Frank - his own mother. And despite how this should be a celebration, it's something that Gerard wants to hide. Giving Frank any reason to leave terrifies Gerard, and so he's hiding his own family from him.   
   
Mikey will disagree. Mikey always disagrees. He'll insist on telling Frank the truth, even if he knows that they might lose him all over again. It's called fucking morals, Mikey would be saying not too long from now. Gerard isn't sure what he can do about this - he only has one option, and that is to try reasoning with his brother. Something more or less impossible surrounding situations like this one.   
   
He knows that it's because Mikey cares. His younger brother just wants what is best for everyone, but he has no idea what it'll do to Gerard. It'll destroy him.   
   
And Gerard has been through that too many times, and refuses to let himself become beat down anymore. With Frank back in the picture, he can start to fix things, right? His life - his addictions - his purpose. It's all tied down to this one strange boy that he'd hit down with his car.   
   
They begin packing their things, hesitantly having to return to Frank's lodgings. Gerard calls Mikey, and they arrange to be picked up. There's tension between the two brothers, but Gerard knows that Mikey won't act on anything until they've spoken alone. He's already dreading it, terrified that it could drive them apart. Until recently, they'd never really fought before. There had been banter, but never a real argument. Not over anything  more serious than a broken Gameboy or an over-written save file of Pokemon.   
   
But this time, it's potentially someone's life, and Gerard wonders if he should just come clean and tell his brother everything. There is a chance he'd understand. After experiencing it himself, Mikey knows exactly how it feels. He also knows exactly what it's like to lose that person.   
   
However, Gerard is at a loss. He can't tell his brother, but that runs him the risk of Frank slipping from his fingertips.  
  
Gerard thinks.  
  
Maybe he's just paranoid.  
  
Maybe he's just being overly-protective.  
  
But he feels like it's his job.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i both hated and loved writing this chapter.
> 
> xofeb


	20. CHAPTER TWENTY - THE APMAS REWARDS WERE TERRIBLE.

"I love this house," Frank says the very second he's through the door. "It's disgusting, it's dirty, it belongs to the Way's, but I truly do admire it. Lovely architecture." He pats the wall beside him gently, earning him a look of curiosity from the other boys. luckily, their mother didn't hear that.   
   
Mikey and Gerard trade a glance. "I'm gonna go take everything back down to my room," Gerard informs his brother, maintaining eye contact as if he were a professional.   
   
"I'll help," Mikey offers.   
   
Frank seems to be enthusiastic about returning, but no matter how much the younger boy smiles or talks animatedly to Gerard, there is something not quite right. Knowing he hasn't seen him in weeks, Gerard understands that clearly Frank will have changed slightly in some way, but this feels different. Too many grins, and too many heart-warming chuckles. For someone so desperate to leave say days ago, he sure is abnormally ecstatic about coming back.   
   
However, Gerard chalks it up to be his paranoia or something else as equally irrational. Drinking has side effects, and he's been hit hard by them before. Frank is just happy to be back, he tells himself. Considering the bond between them, Gerard isn't the only one who should feel delighted towards spending time with his best friend. Sometimes Frank doesn't show it, but he's just as deep in this as Gerard. That's what the older of the two tries to remind himself, anyway.   
   
Being the Way brothers, Mikey and Gerard didn't exactly take much with them, so re-sorting their belongings is simple. After dragging his things down the stairs, Gerard unlocks the door and lets each of them in. Frank walks in a few steps, closes his eyes and then inhales. "I've grown too used to the scent of perspiration," he breathes, then turns around. He catches Gerard's eye, then exhales. "The smell was different in the bar - despite it being an extreme temperature with dozens of people crammed inside. I must say, Gerard. I'm rather fond of your uncleanliness in comparison to that place."   
   
"Frank that's just fucked up," Gerard shakes his head, but sniffs the air around him anyway. Living in this exact room for the last twenty four years of his life, he can't really smell anything but the thick scent of cigarettes and coffee. He likes to call it 'artist smell'.    
   
"I don't know how you can stand it in here," Mikey groans, pulling a face of disgust. "It smells like Satan's armpit."   
   
Gerard only chortles, knowing full well that his little brother's sanitary habits are just as bad as his. The only difference between them is the fact that Mikey has windows in his room so he can actually air the place out.   
   
Glancing around, it feels like months since he was last surrounded by comic books and mouldy coffee mugs, but in reality it's only been a couple of days. Still, Gerard feels relieved to have arrived back in one piece, with Frank safely back at his side once again. He closes his eyes and smiles, before opening them and scanning for an empty spot of floor to set everything down on.   
   
That's when he remembers the glass.   
   
Littered across the floor, it's an obvious hazard. Why Gerard didn't clean it up before he left, he has no idea. Everything had been so spontaneous. Only now, Gerard panics as Frank moves to walk ahead. Gerard lunges forwards blindly, trying to reach for his arm in order to pull him back, but his fingers only lightly scrape the material of Frank's shirt before his entire body crashes into the small form of the younger boy.   
   
They're both sent plummeting to the ground, and Mikey would laugh at the situation if it wasn't for him too realizing the shattered bottle mixed amongst Gerard's trash. The two boys hit the floor hard, Frank letting out a pained yelp from the collision. "Shit!" Gerard yells, rolling off Frank and onto his side. "Shit, Frank - I'm sorry, are you okay?" He reaches out and rouses his friend, cheeks flaming red from his stupidity.   
   
Frank sits up and blinks, shuffling away from the glass. Gerard looks him over, letting out a sigh at his mostly fine image. "Gerard, you're supposed to say 'mind the glass'," Mikey sighs, picking the dust from his jacket. "You're not supposed to jump on them."   
   
"Shut it, Mikes," growls Gerard, as he reaches out to rest a hand on Frank's knee. "You okay?"   
   
The younger man doesn't respond, his face turning from pale to bleach white. His left hand is clamped over his arm, squeezing tightly. Gerard notices and swallows, feeling sick. Reaching out, he gently prises Frank's fingers from his limb, before carefully moving his hand aside. Both Gerard and Mikey draw in a sharp breath from what they see.   
   
The bottle had shattered into two bigger pieces, and then there were another thousand or so tiny shards. Frank had suffered the worst of this mess, with the sharp edge of a larger piece jutting out from his skin, blood starting to dribble from it now that he'd removes his hand. Smaller fragments have also cut into his flesh, glittering in the small stream of sunlight that cuts Gerard's room in half.   
   
At first, Gerard's panic only escalates, with him frozen in place having no idea what to do. But he bites down and grinds his teeth together, before trying to asses the wound properly. The glass is deep within the inside of Frank's wrist, just missing the essential vein that runs through his arm. However, it's sliced right through his muscle and flesh due to Gerard's weight pushing him down when they'd fallen.   
   
He swallows down his guilt, and takes Frank's uninjured hand into his own. "Frank, it's okay - you'll be fine. Say something."   
   
"Fuck - we gotta get him to the hospital," Mikey tells his brother, fidgeting nervously. "He's in shock."   
   
But that's when Frank suddenly snaps back into reality. His eyes focus, and he glares at Mikey. "No hospitals," he says, voice surprisingly firm.   
   
However, Gerard still tries as he helps Frank get to his feet. "It's a five minute drive, then we'll call in at the emergency room," he tries to say comfortingly, but Frank flinches and tears away from Gerard's grip.   
   
"I'm not going," he states, stubborn as ever. "Just... get some bandages. It's not that bad I - I think it just needs disinfecting.  
   
Mikey steps forward. "Frank, I don't think you get it..." he begins to explain. Worry sweeps over his face. "You need to have that checked, no one in this house knows how to close a wound like that - what if it gets infected? Dude, you could die."   
   
The brunette seems to be unphased. He turns sharply to the older Way brother. "Gerard, I need you to extract the glass," he says, puppy dog eyes in effect. "Don't worry, I don't think stitches will be necessary. A bandage to keep the wound clean should do."   
   
"But Fra-"   
   
"Go get the first aid kit."   
   
Hesitantly, he leaves the room to do what he's told. Mikey is left alone with Frank, refusing to give in as easily. "The hospital," he says, pointing to the door. "Frank, that's not a fucking graze from falling off your bike - that's half a goddamned bottle stuck in your arm."   
   
"I'll be fine."   
   
"Why won't you go?"   
   
His eyes turn dark for a moment, before he looks straight up at Mikey. "There are more serious injuries that need to be taken care of. This is hardly fatal."   
   
He's reluctant, but Mikey too leaves the room.   
   
//   
   
"Fuck-" Frank grinds his teeth together. "Fuck, shit - ow!"   
   
Mikey laughs. "Who'd have thought the secret to making Frank swear would just be to pour scotch all over his open wound."   
   
"That's not funny," the younger boy hisses. "It's painful."   
   
"Of course it is, you dumbfuck," Gerard shakes his head. Frank squeezes his hand tight. "Which is why you should be in a freaking hospital."   
   
Frank shakes his head violently. "I'm fine, I'm fine - I am fine."   
   
"That should do," Mikey says as he dabs at the cut with a piece of cotton. Most of the bleeding has stopped, and now it just has to be bandaged thoroughly. Gerard puts his high school first aid lessons into action and starts to wind it around Frank's hand, before carefully covering the wound itself. More hissing and obscenities, and then Frank insists that he's good to go.    
   
Mikey puts everything away, but as he does so, his curiosity piques up. "Frank..." he mumbles, capturing the attention of both his brother and the small brunette. "About Sapphire... what the - it's been bothering me. How did you get adopted by a bunch of, ah... strippers?"   
   
Gerard feels uncomfortable, not really wanting this to be the topic of discussion. Frank however, turns to the younger brother, and purses his lips. "She's an exotic dancer, actually," he says in a defensive tone. Gerard cringes, fiddling with some spare bandage. "I was lost, and she took me in. I was very grateful for her hospitality, but I can't quite say the same about her advances."   
   
Mikey raises an eyebrow.   
   
"Anyway," he continues, then turns an eye to Gerard. "I must say that I don't understand the fascination that most of the men there had, the ladies were incredibly friendly, but it was almost a disappointment after all of the films I've seen-"   
   
"Frank, shut the fuck up," Gerard swiftly cuts him short.   
   
Mikey however, is impressed. "You'll have to tell me more about it sometime."   
  
Then, Mikey leaves, and Frank excuses himself so that he can go to the bathroom. Gerard is left by himself, and he lets out a sigh at the mess he calls his life. Everything while searching for Frank seemed kinda simple; just find him, and then everything will be okay. However - and like always - now that Gerard has what he wanted, he doesn't know what to do. It's as if he always needs some kind of goal ahead of him, but with or without it, he'll always be miserable.   
   
So he does what he used to do; he forces himself to smile. He picks up the shards of glass, but doesn't throw them away. Instead, he pours them into a small container which he places amongst a pile of crap on his shelf. Just as he's sitting back down on his bed, about to open an old Grant Morrison comic - Frank comes back into the room. He has a tissue in his hand, which he coughs into, rather meekly. "You okay? How's your arm?" Gerard asks.   
   
Frank coughs a few times more, eyes squeezed shut before he smiles. "My arm will be fine, but I... I think I've caught a cold," he admits in a small voice. "I knew I shouldn't have hugged you."   
   
A laugh manages to escape Gerard. "Don't blame this on me," he chuckles.   
   
"I feel awful," Frank sits down beside Gerard. His face is still washed out, proof of his claim. Gerard pats him on the back, and Frank starts coughing again, holding the tissue to his face.   
   
"You'll be fine, let me just go get my thermometer so I can poke you with it," jokes Gerard.   
   
Frank shakes his head, before appearing nervous for a second. He throws the tissue into the bin. "Please don't do that," he asks sincerely, looking into Gerard's eyes.   
   
"I'm just screwing with you," he says, amusement plastered onto his face.   
   
Frank stares at him, confused before smiling. "I see," he nods. "Screwing. I like it when we screw - we should screw more often."   
   
And at that, Gerard more or less loses it as he bursts into laughter. His body shakes with the weight of his chuckles, and goddammit, he's missed Frank and his God awful humor far too much. "Jesus Christ," he wipes a tear from his face. "Don't - don't say shit like that, oh God."   
   
"I don't understand," Frank says, eyebrows furrowed together, but Gerard just waves him off.   
   
"Go - go fetch me a glass of water," Gerard asks of him, mainly to avoid having to explain more sexual education all over again.    
   
When he's alone, Gerard lets out a sigh. It's a mixture of relieve and angst, reminding Gerard of just how much his life is becoming an oxymoron. Rolling onto his side, Gerard tries to get comfortable but only hears a small crunch beneath him as he does so. He moves back, and pulls a half empty potato chip packet from under his leg. With it being dated to expire over three months ago, he's not sure why it's on his bed, so he takes aim and launches it towards his bin.   
   
"Dammit."   
   
The small packet misses the plastic container, and hits the wall instead. With another heart-felt sigh, Gerard drags himself from his bed and practically crawls across the floor to pick it up and dispose of it. It's an easy slam dunk, but something catches his eye and he freezes. Then, after a second of hesitation, Gerard leans in and pulls out a wad of tissue stained with blood.


	21. CHAPTER TWENTY ONE - IN A WORLD FULL OF THE WORD YES.

The three boys are sat around the dining table, and a thick cloud of tension hangs over their heads. First of all, Mikey and Gerard still haven't spoken about what happened in New York. It seems to be something they both want to avoid, but know they have to face. They grow uncomfortable in each other's presence, and to Gerard - it feels as if his best friend is slipping out of his fingers. It's not just this particular issue however, that is straining their relationship. Everything has been twisted and turned so many times that Gerard is starting to grow scared that he's not the same person that he was months ago. His brother doesn't want to talk to him, his mother is threatening to kick him out of the house, and Frank? Gerard has no idea.   
   
Everything around Gerard has changed, or it's just him. He isn't sure which he'd prefer, but the latter assumption seems to be the one that gets him the most. But he doesn't know how he's changed, or why. Gerard doesn't understand any of it - all he knows is that he's the one who has fucked things up.   
   
And it's starting to become impossible to bare.   
   
"Mom is home soon," he mumbles, looking up from his food to glance across the table. Mikey's eyes dart up to meet his for a second, before he goes back to eating. For a few more moments, Gerard remains looking awkward, expecting an answer despite knowing he won't get one. His attempt at breaking the tension fails, leaving him chewing his lip with discomfort.   
   
Frank is oblivious to the situation. "Did you know that honey is made from nectar and bee vomit?" he says, squinting at his food as he stirs it around his plate. "I read about it online. Very interesting." He's ignored by both brothers.   
   
Gerard sighs. Today, everything seems to be getting on his nerves. Especially his blasted toothache. His head is throbbing too. The intense scenery makes this worse, a pain for his eyes to process, but it's no match for the agony in his mouth. It's some kind of extreme hangover, only catching up with him now from his weeks of being far from sober - with the terrible side effect of wanting to pull his back molar out dragging along with it. With a groan, he closes his eyes and pushes his plate towards the center of the table. "I uh, I'm not hungry," he announces, and stands up. Frank stares at him, before shrugging and losing interest.    
   
Once he's away from the dining room, Gerard heads upstairs to the bathroom. Shaking slightly, he locks himself inside before letting a sigh of resignation fall from his lips. He falls backwards, and sits down on the closed toilet seat, head in his hands as he squeezes his eyes shut some more. After breathing for a few seconds, he swallows and gets back up, then opens the medicine cabinet. He starts scanning, but curses as he finds only a box of empty painkillers. Last time he checked, there was at least another row of tablets. Gerard frowns, wondering where they've gone - but he's mainly just pissed off because he has nothing to soothe his blasted toothache.   
   
He runs the cold water, then douses his hands beneath the stream for a few minutes. Splashing it against his face, he draws in a short gasp at the freezing temperature, and stares at himself in the mirror as he watches each droplet fall from his skin. Cold water helps headaches, right? Gerard has no idea - it's probably just something that he read on the internet once upon a time. However, he still feels like crap and decides that he wants nothing more than to curl up in bed.   
   
With this thought being his primary objective, he leaves the bathroom only to bump into an annoyed younger brother. Gerard stops where he is, and raises an eyebrow. "Gee, we need to talk," says Mikey, voice tinted with anguish.   
   
And that's when Gerard lets out his third sigh of the day, giving his brother an expression of pure pain. "Yes?"   
   
"Well, shouldn't we like... tell Frank?" Mikey ducks his head in slightly, eyebrows pinched together. "I mean - isn't that why he left? So he could find his family? Gerard, we can't really keep this from him."   
   
"Look, Mikes. I'm not in the mood for this." Gerard rubs his left eye, grimacing. "Can't we just leave it? Please? - ah fuck-"   
   
Gerard growls, cursing as a split of pain hits him. Mikey moves forward, resting a hand on one of his brother's shoulders. "Hey - hey. You okay? Gee?"   
   
"Yeah," he waves him off. "Goddamned fucking toothache. Someone took all the painkillers."   
   
"Well it wasn't me," Mikey shrugs, face earnest. "Want me to ah - run down to the shop? We need more milk anyway."   
   
Gerard nods, but he's hardly listening. If Mikey didn't take those pills - then who did? Frank, on a binge painkilling trip? Gerard doubts it, but then he thinks about what Frank had said to him. He must have caught the flu that Gerard managed to pick up in New York - explaining the bloody tissue. Although, Frank has been acting more or less fine around him. But then Gerard remembers that this is Frank - he's not exactly the average human being.   
   
The next few days pass by uneventfully.    
   
Gerard feels better, Mikey is still pestering him, and Frank is fitting right back in. Donna returns home, pleased to find a sober Gerard on the couch playing Mario Kart 8 with his brother. For some time, everything starts to work itself out. Like he'd planned, Gerard doesn't touch the bottle. He doesn't let himself go near it, and in turn - he starts painting again. Simple stuff at first. Comic book characters, a few Batman designs and a sketch of The Joker. He shows Frank, and the younger boy is impressed. However, when Gerard tries to introduce Deadpool to him, he's absolutely clueless.   
   
Gerard's mother seems to like Frank, unlike most of his other friends. Bert, Quinn, Jepha and the others were all 'trouble' in the woman's eyes. She says that Frank couldn't be a bad influence even if he tried. Mikey agrees, laughing and pointing out Frank's lack of knowledge surrounding pop culture. Gerard defends him half-heartedly, making Frank quote a line from a Tim Burton film to show that he's not as uneducated as his family members think.   
   
It's all fun and games in the Way household, and for once - Gerard starts to feel happy again. There are still issues. There are problems that won't be easy to resolve, but for now he lets himself enjoy the simplicity of life. Frank seems to be doing something similar, but he's still pale as death, coughing at all the worst times. Mikey suggests that maybe he has a problem with his lungs, and catching Gerard's cold has made it worse. They pass it off, saying that he'll be fine.   
   
"My head hurts," Frank randomly blurts out one night. Gerard looks up from his laptop, frowning. "And I can't sleep."   
   
"Bad dreams?" asks Gerard, moving his computer to the side so that he can scoot to the edge of his bed. He gets comfortable next to Frank, who has his hands knotted together as he frowns into thin air.   
   
"I don't know," he says. "Everything turns black and white."   
   
Gerard nods, remembering when he'd first seen color. His dreams had been black and white too, but now that's all changed. It's all the same now. "Be glad you didn't have to live through twenty three years of that," he grunts.   
   
Frank passes him a serious glance. "And you should be glad you've had more than seven months to even live."   
   
"Shit..." Gerard breathes, shaking his head. "It's really been that long?"   
   
Frank looks sad for a moment, the ghost of a smile on his lips. "And I wouldn't have changed it in any way."   
   
Gerard claps him on the back, feeling a burst of warmth in his stomach from what Frank had just said. It feels like - it feels like yes, Frank is his best friend - but it feels as if they've grown closer throughout this entire unheavenly ordeal. Maybe Frank does have the same feelings that Gerard does. Maybe he just doesn't understand them. "How long has it been?" he asks, hesitantly. "Since you slept properly."   
   
Frank thinks for a second, his face tensing slightly. Gerard watches, entranced by the tiny movement. "A short time before I left," he admits, turning his head back to Gerard.   
   
"No wonder you always look like shit," Gerard laughs, lifting a hand to stroke his thumb against the dark patch beneath Frank's eye. "Kinda thought you'd been stealing my eyeliner."   
   
"You know I would never steal from you." Frank catches Gerard's hand as it falls back into his lap. He squeezes it gently.   
   
Gerard smiles. "Except my hand."   
   
Frank looks down, then his eyes widen and he breaks away from the older boy. He flushes red; something Gerard hasn't seen very often. He starts laughing, then throws himself backwards to lie down. "Is the mattress making it hard to sleep?" he asks, knowing full well that the camping equipment isn't ideal for day-to-day use. However, and to Gerard's surprise, Frank shakes his head.   
   
"No it, no I um," he stammers, chewing his bottom lip. "I don't know. It's not the bed, I just can't."   
   
Thinking, Gerard hums to himself. When he'd gone through insomnia, he found out that if he jacked off, he'd be out like a light in a matter of minutes afterwards. It helped him to relax. However, something tells him that Frank will have no idea what he's talking about. Anything sex related is completely out of the question.  
   
But then he has an idea.   
   
He struggles to sit back up, before crawling towards Frank who is still sat on the foot of his bed. With a tugging smirk, Gerard half-tackles him around the waist, mindful of his bad arm as he pulls him backwards. "Gerard, what are you...?"   
   
"I'm helping," he says, rolling Frank onto his back. Gently, he moves him up to the centered pillow and lets him rest his head against it. "Just - don't say anything. Let me do this."   
   
Frank's eyes widen with alarm. "Do what?"   
   
"Frank, this isn't a porno for fuck's sake, calm down. I'm not gonna suck you off. Just get comfy."   
   
"So a... a handjob?"   
   
"Jesus," Gerard hisses, but it's in a light tone. He's still on all fours, trying to gather up all of his blankets so that he can wrap Frank up. Once he's done that, he moves back to Frank's side, and rolls over to face him. Frank does the same, and Gerard throws the duvet over them.   
   
"This is why your mother thinks you're a homosexual," Frank states, but doesn't hesitate to sink into the comfort around him.   
   
Gerard finds himself smiling, lost for the millionth time in Frank's curious eyes. "Yeah well, maybe I am."   
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry it was a little short, but i hope you enjoyed it anyway (it was kind of a filler too, oops)
> 
> xofeb


	22. CHAPTER TWENTY TWO - I'M HERE TO SCREAM.

Gerard has found himself staring at Frank a lot more recently.   
   
To make this worse, Frank has often responded by simply staring back. Mikey is starting to grow uncomfortable around their constant eye-sex, even going out of his way to ask Gerard again, are they dating?   
   
A question to which, Gerard would always laugh and shoot down in the air. It's true; they're not dating. However, even if he is telling the truth, Gerard is still lying. He has no intention of telling Mikey about his new artistic leash on life - but if he and Frank were to date - he isn't sure what he'd tell his little brother.   
   
After all, Gerard had more or less came out as gay last night. He'd only told Frank, and it was 3 AM so maybe it didn't exactly count, but he still feels as if he's gotten something off his chest. He guesses that it doesn't really matter. Gay or not gay, Gerard is only interested in one person. By the laws of nature, this entire thing should be a two-way street, but it just seems to be more of a truck that slipped on ice and fell into a ditch instead. All he can do is appreciate the fact that Frank is even back home, and try to push his feelings into a corner.   
   
But being separated for those lonely weeks has only made shit worse for Gerard. When he'd first met Frank in the hospital, he'd been overwhelmed. Only through time had he managed to dim everything down, but now it's back - and it's stronger. He sighs wistfully, resting his chin in his hands as he watches Frank play guitar from across the living room. "You must have been in like, a band or something," he says, voice slightly muffled. Frank stops playing, then looks up and frowns. Gerard knows that Frank was in a band - hell, it's the reason he came to Jersey. That could also mean that his band mates are in town. Assuming that they still live here, if they ever did.   
   
Clearing his throat, Frank begins an explanation. "From the amount of skill, I'd say I've been playing for a number of years. I'm not sure why it comes to me so easily though. Other things that I should have already learned are still hard for me to do." Frank taps his fingers against the hollow of his instrument. Gerard had pretty much given him the beat-up acoustic, knowing full well that it'd be better off with Frank than someone who can't even play Sweet Home Alabama.   
   
Gerard sits up, and folds his arms across his chest. "Well," he starts. "Maybe it's like a... a passion thing? Like - if I lost my memory and I couldn't do things I'd learned before... I'd like to think I could still paint. Maybe that's you, but with guitar."   
   
"Maybe," Frank murmurs. For a second, he looks as if he wants to say something else, but it quickly dissipates. He starts finger picking his way through something he'd written - quickly impressing Gerard as he sighs, and continues to watch.   
   
Only just as Gerard finds himself beginning to sink into the melody, Frank abruptly palm mutes the strings before balancing the guitar against the wall to his left. Gerard feels disappointed. "I was enjoying that," he mumbles, but Frank doesn't hear him.   
   
"Can I ask you a question?" the younger boy asks, and Gerard realizes that this is why Frank had stopped. It's serious talk time.   
   
He nods. "Sure."   
   
"Why do you still live here? Why don't you have a job? Why don-"   
   
"Woa Frank," Gerard leans forwards. "I thought you said one question, not fifty."   
   
Frank blushes. "Sorry," he is quick to apologize, staring at his feet. "Well then, I'd like to know why you don't own your own house yet."   
   
Gerard just shrugs. "Quit my last job. Can't afford an apartment - no one can these days." A loud sigh. He leans backwards, closing his eyes. "Besides, I don't think Mikey would appreciate me fucking off to God knows where. Not after, y'know. Alicia."   
   
The room grows quiet then, Frank's face being swept with reminiscence. Gerard remembers him running down to his room, straight after speaking with Mikey that morning. The entire house felt cold, and Frank had been the only one to not understand what was going on. All he knew was that it was bad, not truly grasping the concept before him. "You really do care for your brother, don't you?" Frank whispers. His voice is almost haunted.   
   
A sad smile spreads across Gerard's lips. "Yeah well, he's family," he says softly in reply, linking his hands together. "He's kinda been my best friend pretty much my whole life."   
   
"I wish I could have met the both of you sooner," Frank tells him as he leans forward slightly. Gerard nods, imagining what it would have been like to have grown up with Frank. Although, he wouldn't even be the same kid - would he? This mysterious, tragedy stricken amnesia-patient is who Gerard fell in love with. Not whoever he was before - a guy in a band? Some rich kid who rebelled against his parents? It makes him feel sick to his stomach, but Gerard realizes that he's the reason Frank is so fucked up. To make things worse, it's this mess left over from the accident that he's fallen for.   
   
Fucking hormones. Fucking color. Goddamned fucking Anthony Frank Iero or whatever his name was.   
   
Gerard's moment of angst stays riddled into his mind as he continues to converse with Frank. They talk more about Mikey, about the ridiculous things they did as kids. Frank seems to enjoy learning about Gerard's past, and even more so, Gerard's future. Or, what he'd dreamed of with his little brother, anyway. When Gerard mentions the band he'd attempted to start, Frank becomes even more keen for knowledge. "Did you have a name?" he asks. "Did you ever play? Record anything? Were you a Metallica?"   
   
Gerard snorts, trying not to laugh at Frank's phrasing. "No - we ah... we weren't a Metallica, Frank. Not even close. We never came up with a name, actually." He rubs the back of his head with his hand, raking his fingers across his scalp absent mindedly.   
   
"I could give you some suggestions," Frank shrugs.   
   
Gerard gestures with his hands, telling Frank that he's open to ideas. "Hit me."   
   
"Donnie Darko?"   
   
"Frank, that's already a film."   
   
"I know."   
   
"That means we can't use it."   
   
The younger boy scowls. "What about Frank and Friends?"   
   
"Man, you really suck ass at this."   
   
Admitting an early defeat, he lets out a sigh. "I know," he repeats. Gerard laughs, once again feeling his chest tighten just from gazing at him. Frank too, get's caught in the shared glance, and swallows nervously. "I just noticed something..." he whispers, eyes flickering across Gerard's face as if he's searching for something. When his own gaze settles on Gerard's lips, the older man panics slightly,  but stays where he is.   
   
"Yes?" he gulps, anxiety building up inside of his stomach.   
   
Frank looks back up into his eyes. "You have very small teeth for a twenty four year old man."   
   
And Gerard just can't believe it. He jerks backwards, unsure of how to respond. Does he laugh? Does he punch Frank in the arm and tell him to fuck off? He doesn't know - because fuck - either Frank is a master tease or he truly has no idea how to initiate a kiss. But then Gerard asks himself if they are even ready, and he isn't sure what the answer is.    
   
And even if they were ready, their chances had been blown. Mikey and Donna walk into the room, almost catching Gerard and Frank nose-to-nose. Flushing furiously, Gerard  tries to act natural, sitting abnormally upright in his seat as the others within the room start talking about God knows what. Frank, completely oblivious to what had just happened, chats merrily with them - something about cars, Gerard thinks. However, he finds it hard to pay attention. His mind is racing. His blood is pulsing, and Gerard concludes that he's turned into a sixteen year old girl.   
   
When he returns to his room, he mutters the horror to himself. Had he acted like this on his first date with Lindsey? Gerard fucking prays that he didn't. At least with Frank there is some kind of a safety net. He doesn't understand exactly what is going on. Lindsey however, had something called expectations, and Gerard had to work his ass off in order to meet them.   
   
Tonight is the fourth night since Frank had started to share the same bed as Gerard. Though despite the obvious circumstances, neither of the boys really feel uncomfortable about it. Gerard's only objection would be the amount of torment that would follow if either his mother or Mikey saw them. Jumping to conclusions would ensue, and Gerard would yet again have to explain that no - he and Frank aren't fucking.   
   
The brighter side is that Frank says he feels better at night knowing that Gerard is just an arm's length away from him. It's not as if they cuddle or anything. Frank just seems to sleep much more soundly as long as he's within Gerard's presence. There is absolutely nothing wrong with that; he has to reassure himself more than once, but he feels fairly confident about it. Gerard gets a slither of human contact, and Frank doesn't lie awake all night, staring at the ceiling. It's a win-win situation.   
   
Gerard is already in bed, turned onto his side. He's on his cell phone, sending a long over-due text message to Ray. Frank crawls in at about 2 AM. Any other normal person would be fast asleep right now, but Gerard wouldn't usually think about closing his eyes to doze off until at least half three. Frank, having more or less been raised by the Way brothers at this point, has grown into this thinking that their sleeping patterns are completely normal. Unlike Gerard however, he actually manages to get up while it's still morning the next  day.    
   
"Hello, Gerard," Frank murmurs, peeping over his friend's shoulder in order to see what he's  doing. In response, Gerard pushes his phone under his pillow and rolls over onto his back.   
   
"It's late," he says, lifting an eyebrow at the ceiling. "You should get some sleep."   
   
Frank moves slightly closer. "Actually, it's early. Morning, in fact."   
   
Rolling his eyes, Gerard smiles. "Smart ass," he retorts, then he's suddenly back on his side, facing Frank. "So, what's up?"    
   
"I want to talk," the younger boy whispers, his eyes widening as he shuffles slightly.   
   
"About?"   
   
"Everything."   
   
That's where Gerard gets confused, frowning as he props himself up onto his elbow. He tilts his head to the side, wondering if Frank has been keeping something from him. "Define everything."   
   
"You," says Frank, voice soft. "Me. Us. What's going to happen."   
   
Gerard can't tell if this is going to end badly or not. He swallows, thinking back to New York. It's all been so much easier since they'd gotten back, but now Gerard feels almost threatened by the idea of having to go through it all over again. Compared to the easy flying of before and after, being without Frank had been his own personal Hell.    
   
"Frank, nothing is going to happen," Gerard speaks back. "You can do what you like - we can do what we like."   
   
"I don't understand." His eyebrows pinch together.   
   
Gerard smiles again, skin tingling as Frank's hand brushes his own. "You don't have to worry about your past. I dunno, I don't like cheesy ass speeches but I guess you're free. You let things go, right? That's why we're here? I mean like... it means you can do whatever you want now. Live your own life and forget about whatever or whoever you were before. None of it matters."   
   
But at his words, Frank withdraws slightly. He sinks backwards. Gerard frowns, reaching out to touch his arm. Frank looks back up, meeting Gerard's insistent gaze. "I want to say thank you." He's hesitant. "For finding me - I don't know what I was doing, I-"   
   
"It's cool, man." Gerard silences him. Frank nods, and Gerard takes that as his cue  to roll over and get some shut eye. A loud yawn escapes him, a sign of how tired he is. On his back, he stares at the ceiling for a short moment, before feeling movement to his right.    
   
Frank suddenly leans up, and presses his lips gently to Gerard's cheek. "Thank you," he whispers once more. He turns back to his own side of the bed, leaving Gerard wide eyed and confused, knowing that Frank had just kissed him. 


	23. CHAPTER TWENTY THREE - THANKS PETE.

| "Gerard."   
   
"Gerard, wake up."   
   
"Wake up, Gerard - I... I had a bad nightmare."   
   
It takes a few minutes, but Gerard can hear Frank's voice in the midst of his own dream. Calling out to him, he breaks the blurred line of consciousness and shoots up as he begins to gasp for air. "Frank?" he glances around, wondering if the voices were real. Frank, ruffled hair and worried face - is sat right beside him.   
   
"I'm here," the brunette whispers, then leans in. "Gerard, I had a nightmare." He says each word as if it's forbidden.   
   
Confused, Gerard blinks at first. He can't remember what is reality anymore, and has to cast an eye to his alarm clock to get a sense of time. 5 AM. "A-Are you okay?" Turning to Frank, Gerard lifts a hand to clutch gently at the fabric of his shirt. "You're not hurt, are you?"   
   
Frank shakes his head. "No, but my head is pounding."   
   
"What happened?"   
   
They both stare in silence for a brief second, before Frank drops his gaze into his lap. "It doesn't matter," he mumbles. "It just... wasn't pleasant."   
   
Gerard nods, trying to seem understanding. "It's okay - was it like the dreams you had before?"   
   
"Yes. " Frank tilts his head forward in conformation.    
   
When Gerard pulls himself out of bed, Frank's eyes follow him around the room. He takes his shirt off, replacing it with a fresh one before turning back to address his friend. "Think it could be related to like, you being sick? I mean your cold isn't totally gone just yet."   
   
"I don't know," mumbles Frank.    
   
Gerard tilts his head, pursing his lips slightly. "We could go see a doctor and find out if it's anything serious," he suggests.   
   
Frank shakes his head. "No," he is quick to fire down the idea while it's still in the air. "I'll be fine, I just wanted to talk about it."   
   
Stretching, Gerard lets out a loud yawn as he sits back down on the edge of the bed. "I worry about you, y'know," he says, trying to capture Frank's gaze. However, when the younger boy keeps his eyes trained on his own hands, Gerard frowns. "Frank - is there something else... bothering you?"   
   
"No."   
   
Gerard hesitates, but asks the question that has been plaguing his mind. "Did something happen in New York?"   
   
"No."   
   
And with Frank's response, Gerard leaves it at that. They go upstairs and make coffee, then spend the day doing all that they've done since they got back. Each day is becoming repetitive; Gerard is starting to feel like everything is smudging together. It's not a bad feeling - but it's not particularly exciting either. In a way, it's simply nice. Enjoyable. Everything has a dream-like quality, but he knows it's only a matter of time until that changes.    
   
He talks to Mikey, and they end up discussing Kristin. "She's asking me on a date," Mikey hisses, voice alarmed.   
   
At first, Gerard just laughs. "You are a couple... aren't you?" They've been going strong for a while now, Gerard thinks as he recalls the awkward experience they'd shared at the diner. In fact, that entire day had been a date. Gerard sees no reason for Mikey to suddenly get nervous now.   
   
Not until Mikey replies, only it's not his younger brother who should be nervous. "No, no, she wants you to come along," he says, clearly anxious as to how Gerard will respond. "Look, she really enjoyed seeing you last time, and she kept asking me the other night if you'd be free on Saturday."   
   
"Well, I'm not," says Gerard. "I'm busy."   
   
Mikey bits his lip. "Please? Gee - look, it'll make her really happy. And - think it'll be good for you. Y'know, leaving the house and stuff. You can bring Frank if you want. We could make it a double date."   
   
At the words 'double date', Gerard flinches. "Get outta my face, Mikes," he flicks his wrist up, trying to whisk his brother away. After a small amount of persistence, Mikey leaves and Gerard is left on his own again. It's starting to make him feel ridiculous. He and Frank aren't dating, and Mikey hadn't used the term as a joke. Gerard understands that it's most likely his little brother just trying to be supportive, genuinely convinced that there is a relationship to smile at. Only things are far too complicated for it to be a case of Gerard just asking Frank to be his boyfriend.   
   
No, no - he'd given the kid brain damage. Of course it's fucking complicated.   
   
Not only that, but Gerard is starting to find that he's wrapped himself up into a web of lies. At first, he never thought he'd even get this far. He never thought that Frank would still be around, so he didn't think that he'd have to keep on lying for them. But here he is, still scraping along whatever it is he's trying to do. Only it's not just Gerard who is keeping secrets. Frank has been acting strangely out of character, only rousing Gerard's suspicion. New York has been brought up a few times since he'd first asked, but never does the younger boy want to talk about it. Gerard asks if something happened - Frank goes quiet.   
   
It's hard not to be suspicious, but knowing Frank - it's probably something ridiculous that doesn't need to be worried about. Still, Gerard remains alert. Like so many times before, his mind runs through everything that could have possibly taken place. This includes uglier thoughts revolving around the 'candy van guy' Gerard had told Frank about - the thought of it making him shudder. But then, Gerard thinks about where Frank had been staying. In a fucking strip club. It sounds like the set up to a bad joke, but what if something happened? A drunk middle aged man, making an advance on an entirely clueless nineteen year old... it's a scenario that Gerard doesn't want to consider.    
   
But it's still a possibility. That in itself as a fact, makes him feel sick. The more he thinks through this, the more paranoid he becomes. If something had happened - it'd be his fault, right? He'd taken Frank in. He'd cared for him, he'd put a roof over his head and he'd been his friend. Only to let him go out into the night and get hurt so badly that he doesn't want to talk about it-   
   
Gerard stops himself there. Maybe nothing happened. It could just be all in his head, being over-protective once again. Whether be believes this or not, he still has something sinking into his gut, telling him that everything isn't as perfect as it seems.   
   
Over the next couple of days, Gerard finds himself over-analyzing almost everything. It's starting to drive him mad. He sees Frank flinch - he assumes he'd been beaten up. Frank wakes up in the middle of the night complaining of headaches - he assumes something traumatic happened. Hell, he sees Frank smile - Gerard assumes that he's trying to keep up a facade. Mikey starts to catch onto his brother's strange behavior, and suddenly it's him who is being analyzed. This just makes thing feel even worse.   
   
The part of this that Gerard finds the most disturbing, is how perfect everything feels. Ruling out Frank's case of the flu, everyone is being given what they want. Gerard seems to be the only person noticing this. He hates it because he's still not content, and so he asks himself - is he being selfish? Is he just being melodramatic? There are too many questions flowing in and out of this chapter of his life for him to find the answers to.   
   
"Hey," Gerard mumbles as he walks into the kitchen. Frank is stood by the counter, working at the coffee machine. At the sound of his voice, the younger boy jumps slightly and whips around to face Gerard.   
   
"Gerard," he acknowledges him. "I was just going to make you a gift."   
   
With the lift of his eyebrow, Gerard steps closer. "A gift?" he asks. Frank nods, then turns away. More fiddling with the coffee machine, and then he is facing Gerard again, mug of steaming hot goodness in his possession. Topped with whipped cream and all.   
   
He pushes it into Gerard's hands. "It's your favorite," he says.   
   
Gerard nods, bringing the drink to his lips. After taking a few sips and pretending that it tastes like Starbucks, he puts it down on the counter. "So, Frank. I wanted to ask you something."   
   
"Yes, Gerard?"   
   
The older man shifts, tapping his fingers anxiously against his leg. "Do you ah, feel like going out on Saturday? Mikey and Kristin asked if we'd like to come with them," he asks - and dammit, he sounds like an awkward 8th grader.    
   
Frank just stares into Gerard's eyes for a moment longer. "Like a date?"   
   
"Goddammit!" Gerard shakes his head. "No - not, not like a fucking date, Frank. Friends, remember? We're just friends." His breathing becomes slightly heavier due to the small outburst, while Frank just looks confused.   
   
"Gerard - I was joking," he says, hint of amusement dancing in his tone. It replaces the confusion instantly.   
   
But of course, Gerard hadn't been paying attention to the light smirk on Frank's lips. He feels this mouth turn dry as blinks, cheeks flushing red. "Yeah..." he murmurs. "So, you ah - you wanna come?"   
   
"Of course I do," Frank smiles. "It'll be - a great experience to get out of the house!"   
   
"Yeah, yeah..." Gerard nods, not quite so sure. Leaving his basement is rare enough, never mind stepping out into the world. "Don't get too excited."   
   
"You don't want to go?" asks Frank, eyebrows arching with worry.   
   
"Not really," Gerard admits. He sighs as he tilts his head. "But Mikey thinks it'll be good for me."   
   
Frank moves a little closer, having to look up slightly in order to maintain eye contact. "He's right. You don't exactly get out much. Both your family and I are beginning to grow concerned."   
   
"Frank, c'mon, stop it," Gerard mumbles due to the brunette being so close to him. "You sound like my high school counselor. Only with a... warped sense of personal space."    
   
Its's true; Frank has always given out advice - most of the time, it being strange. Despite Gerard being the one to act like a teacher, Frank's straight-up concern has been something he's not afraid to address. If he thinks something is wrong, he'll talk about it. Except if it surrounds himself, Gerard thinks. He still believes that Frank is keeping something from him.   
   
Gerard is pulled back into reality when Frank speaks. "I'm sorry - no grinding in the bathroom," he mumbles, stepping backwards. "Or in the kitchen."   
   
Gerard tries not to laugh; stifling a chuckle. "Or in my house, or anywhere," he says with the shake of his head. Unlike the last time this happened, Gerard doesn't feel the same cloud of awkwardness above their heads. This time, he just feels tension as their eyes connect for a second too long. He's the first one to break away, knowing that Frank would be content to soul-stare for hours if given the opportunity. They go their separate ways. Gerard heads downstairs, and Frank disappears upstairs.   
   
Gerard lets a long sigh drift from his lips once he dumps his own body into the chair by his desk. Closing his eyes, he tries to put his mind in order - he tries to work out where things stand and how to move forward. He starts from the beginning. Meeting Frank, the hospital, the colors exploding throughout his vision. The cabin, pizza, Frank wanting to leave. Finding him, bringing him home - but what was it all for? Gerard opens his eyes, the ceiling fuzzy in the low light. He makes a decision - things have to move forward.  
---  
  
 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i just wanted to say that i'm sorry about the quality of writing going down recently. i've had a lot of trouble writing, but things should get interesting again very soon.
> 
>  
> 
> xofeb


	24. CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR - I'M FAR FROM LONELY AND IT'S ALL THAT I'VE GOT.

He flicks his hair slightly, tucking an untamed strand behind his ear. The reflection staring back at him seems down; sad, or depressed. Does he feel this way? He doesn't answer that question, and smiles instead. For a second, he sees a small spark in his eyes - and he feels okay. Reaching forwards, he picks up a bottle of cologne, but frowns and places it back on the small shelf. Looking back to his last experience with it, he smelled like donkey piss, and it certainly didn't do him any favors.   
   
Gerard is being dragged out of the house today. Frank in tow, and a trail of awkward behind him - it's going to be a brilliant day. But no amount of bitter, sarcastic thoughts are going to erase the fact that he's slightly looking forward to this. Maybe it's something to do with how he's missed the graffitied walls of downtown New Jersey - or maybe it has more to do with the plan he'd cooked up last night. Gerard decided that he's not going to be beaten down by this any longer.   
   
But he knows that he can't just rush in, declaring love and hoping it's requited. This isn't a damn movie, he reminds himself. This is real life. With real people. Real people who aren't just cardboard cut-outs on a Hollywood set. There is so much more to take into account. So much more that could go wrong - and that reminds Gerard that this might not be the right thing to do.   
   
He ignores himself, and washes his hands. No negativity today. No bullshit. He walks out of the bathroom, and catches Frank in the hallway. "You ready to go out?" he asks, resting a hand on Frank's shoulder from behind.   
   
The younger boy squeezes his eyes shut, coughing almost violently. When Gerard moves to his front and asks if he's okay, Frank just nods his head and waves a hand. "I'm fine, I'm fine," he insists, but it's too late for Gerard not to worry.   
   
"We don't have to go," he murmurs. "If you're not feeling too good, we can stay here - I can make you soup."   
   
"Soup," Frank repeats, meeting Gerard's gaze. The older man shrugs, unsure of what to say. "No, it's okay," Frank shakes his head. "We can go - it's good for you, right?"   
   
Gerard rolls his eyes. "Yeah - right. Good for me. But you're practically dying here, Frank."   
   
"It's just a chest infection," the brunette explains for the millionth time, dropping his gaze to the floor.   
   
Gerard purses his lips. "You taken that, uh - the pills? The medication Mikey got for you?"   
   
Frank nods. "Like I said, Gerard - I'm fine."   
   
"Sure?"   
   
"I'm sure."   
   
They both head downstairs, almost arm in arm as they find a nervous Mikey waiting for them. The younger brother seems slightly distressed, clearly anxious due to the entire situation. Gerard flashes a smile at him - a familiar shit-eating smile that Mikey appears to loosen at. "You look nice," Gerard nods in his direction.   
   
Mikey shifts his weight "Thanks." He leads the two other boys outside, and they all get into the car in a least-awkward fashion as possible. To Gerard, this all still feels surreal. A date, a day out - whatever it's called - it's just something he's not used to any more. Especially a day out in which no drinking is involved, and it's just him sitting uncomfortably with his brother and best friend, most likely being accused of being gay by said brother's girlfriend.   
   
There's something different about Gerard these days. Slowly, he realized that he's changed. He'd been drunk for years - and he was a completely different person back then. The drinking made him seem more... interesting. It gave him confidence and it seemed to give him individuality. Going to those parties with Bert - if Gerard had been sober, then he'd be boring. He'd be awkward. He wouldn't have anything so say. However, when alcohol is introduced, suddenly he'd be the coolest guy on the planet.   
   
He isn't sure which side of him he prefers. The interesting side; the exciting, adventurous side that people outside of his family seemed to love, or the quieter side. That's not even touching on the third one; the one he'd been involved with recently when Frank disappeared. Sure, Gerard is sober now - but he's... nobody. Frank is only here because he has no where else to turn. No where that he knows about, anyway. Gerard had been the first person to introduce himself, to be his friend. So, of course Frank doesn't understand that he's seeing color of a dead-end piece of shit artist.    
   
Frank doesn't know fuck all about him.   
   
The place that Mikey booked is a small diner - nothing posh or expensive. For the most part, it's fairly empty with only a few people scattered amongst the tables. In  the corner, Gerard spots an arcade machine and creates a plot within his head that involves making an escape to play Street Fighter if things get too uncomfortable. Again, Gerard doesn't want to be here. Although there is that small sliver of excitement towards the idea of being somewhere but his house - the want to go home easily overpowers it.   
   
When Kristin appears, Gerard grows stiff in his seat beside Frank - who is staring in curiosity as if he's never seen a girl before. "She's very attractive," Frank points out, eyes glued to her. Gerard tries to nudge him, but he's ignored. "If they were to have intercourse, a child w-"   
   
"Frank," hisses Gerard. "Shut up."   
   
She takes a seat, and Gerard pinches Frank's leg in order for him to stop staring at her cleavage. "Gerard," she smiles, Mikey sitting down beside her. "It's lovely to see you again."   
   
"Yeah," Gerard simply grunts, trying to appear overly unphased. As much as he appreciates his brother finding a new girlfriend - he is not interested in making awkward small talk with her. Like he'd thought earlier - sober Gerard has never exactly been a social butterfly.   
   
"And you must be Frank," she then flashes her next entrancing smile at the youngest of the group. Frank gives her a curt nod, and holds out his hand. Gerard sighs, letting his shoulders slump as Kristin shakes on their meeting, confused at the almost random gesture.   
   
"Miss Blanford - it's... very nice to meet you," Frank says, serious face equipped. This time, his eyes are wary of her low cut blouse, and he turns an eye to Mikey instead. "Your girlfriend is very beautiful," he tells him, voice low and dark. In response, Mikey gives him a flash of a forced smile, before clearing his throat.   
  
"Ah, well - Kristin and I are both very happy that you came, Gerard." Mikey turns his attention to his older brother.   
   
Gerard scoffs, picking up a sachet of ketchup. "Yeah, well... this isn't an intervention, Mikes. Cut the crap. I'm here, congratulations - you got me out of the house. What would you like? A freaking medal?" Each word is lined with a coating of bitter sarcasm, putting out the intended message with ease. Frank is oblivious, and continues to scan is menu, while Kristin looks nervous at Gerard's outburst.   
   
"Would you brighten the fuck up?" Mikey hisses, leaning across the table. "Goddammit - I knew this was a bad idea."   
   
Gerard is about to fire back another rude comment, but Kristin quickly intervenes.   
   
"Look, I'm sorry," she says, giving Gerard a particularly earnest look. "You don't have to stay. Your brother tried to tell me you wouldn't... wouldn't want to be here, but I didn't listen. this is my fault."   
   
And at that, Gerard feels what can only be described as guilt. He leans backwards, pursing his lips together as a waitress appears.   
   
"Hi! My name is Lucy, and I'll be looking after y'all today! Can I get you guys anythin' to drink?"   
   
Frank looks up. "I'd like a tea with seven sugars, please."   
   
The waitress giggles. "Darlin', you're already sweet 'nuff! I'll drop that down to three." She looks to Mikey, pencil poised over her tiny notebook.   
   
"Coffee," he mumbles, and points to Gerard. "Same for him. What do you want, babe?" He then turns to his girlfriend. Gerard pulls an immature face, cringing at the pet name.   
   
"Lemonade," she says, then smiles at the waitress.   
   
When she's gone, Mikey immediately snarls at his brother. "Would you stop it with the Rick Mayall impressions?" he growls, clearly pissed off.   
   
Gerard shakes his head. "Never disrespect a dead man, dude."   
   
After a few more minutes of sibling banter, their drinks arrive. Frank is not impressed. "This tea tastes like liquidized cobwebs," he remarks, frowning in disgust after taking his first sip. He reaches forward and takes several sugar satches, before tearing each one open and stirring them into his drink. Apparently the strange habit catches the attention of the brothers, interrupting their argument.   
   
"Frank, that's disgusting," Mikey grimaces.   
   
After a while, things start to settle down and the four of them manage to have a normal conversation. Gerard is still desperate to go home, but for now he just grits his teeth and endures it. Kristin seems to have picked up on how 'unique' Frank is, and when he excuses himself to use the bathroom, she tilts her head with a frown. "I don't mean to be rude or offensive... but..." she lowers her voice slightly, as if she could be caught bitching. "Is Frank gay?"   
   
Mikey stares at his brother, just as intrigued as his girlfriend. Gerard realizes that he's being put on the spot, but he smiles and doesn't break eye contact with Kristin. "Yes," he answers. "He's my boyfriend, actually."   
   
To Kristin, this news is a delight. She squeals, remarking on how much of an adorable couple they are. Mikey however, is confused. Giving his brother a deadly look of 'what the fuck, man', Gerard knows that he has a lot of explaining to do - especially considering he'd shot down Mikey's suspicions on the matter only hours ago.   
   
Before Frank can return, Gerard decides that now is most likely a good time to make that escape he'd planned. Even if it's only to get away from Mikey's accusing glares, he makes his way over to the arcade machines and sticks a quarter in the Street Fighter console.   
   
The video game session is aggressive - Gerard bites down as he pulls left and right on the joy stick, and smashes his hand against the attack button. He beats the shit out of each character, before he's knocked out by Chun-Lee. "Dammit," he breathes, panting slightly. Starting the game back up, he plays slightly more calmly, but still gets his ass kicked. On the third round, he feels someone tap him on the shoulder. "Gerard."   
   
It's Frank. Gerard pays him no attention, trying to complete just one more level without being distracted. Again, it's Chun-Lee who gets him. With a sigh, he turns around and admits defeat as he faces Frank. "Yes?" he asks, seemingly innocent.   
   
Frank's hand brushes his. "We're leaving now," he says, and Gerard nods.   
   
In the car, Gerard can feel the different emotions building up inside the tight confinements of his crappy silver Subaru. Mikey talks, clearly ignoring what Gerard had announced at the table, while Frank seems distracted. The older brother gazes out of the window, feeling like the wistful star at the beginning of a movie as it begins to rain. Why does he constantly compare his life to Hollywood? It's a long overdue question, and one that he can't answer.   
   
While Gerard heads straight down to his room upon returning, Frank remains upstairs with Mikey. The older of the two is left to sit on his bed, unsure of whether he should be cringing right now or not. It's been so long since he'd been on a 'date', that he has no idea what he's supposed to think. Obviously, he'd been a pain in the ass to put up with, but did it go well? Did it go smoothly for Mikey and Kristin? Hell, why should he even care. Gerard had come up with some ingenious plot before he'd left, but by the time he was sat at that table, he'd completely forgotten about it. His little stunt wasn't exactly part of it either, and he doesn't know why he said that to them. There was just something in Kristin's eyes that made Gerard doubt her. He just wanted to be sure that she wasn't an asshole.    
   
When Frank appears, it's clear that he has something on his mind. While Gerard is drawing, he takes a seat beside him and watches. "You okay?" asks Gerard, not taking his eyes from the art he's working on.   
   
Frank is silent, but it only lasts a few moments before Gerard feels him tense up slightly. "Gerard..." he mumbles, as if he's anxious. The older man still doesn't look up, as he continues to ink red all over his drawing. "Do you... like me?"   
   
Those four words make Gerard stop. He swallows, then turns his head. Frank's chocolate brown eyes capture his. "Of course I like you," Gerard replies, trying to avoid the inevitable. "You're my best friend."   
   
Another brief second of quiet. Frank chews his lip, then speaks. "No, Gerard - I mean... why did you tell Kristin that I'm your boyfriend?"   
   
Gerard isn't sure what to say. "Do you... want to be my boyfriend?" he asks quietly - hesitantly. It's not a question of asking Frank to date him - it's of curiosity. He wants to know what he thinks.   
   
"I don't know," Frank whispers back.   
   
With that, Gerard can see it. Frank is confused. He doesn't understand exactly what he's proposing. So, Gerard leans in slightly. He takes Frank's hand into his own, and pulls him closer. "Do you want this?" Gerard asks, feeling his heart spike. He searches Frank's eyes, trying to find the part of him that feels the same way. "I need you to say that you want this."   
   
Frank doesn't answer him. Instead, he leans in closer, filling more of the tiny gap between them. Gerard lifts his free hand, cupping Frank's face. He feels a lock of brown hair ghost his skin, then Frank kisses him.   
   
His lips are soft, meeting Gerard's with a nervous innocence. He's shaking, Gerard notices, and he squeezes his hand slightly as a comfort. Frank opens his mouth to deepen the movement, but Gerard holds back. Instead, he caresses his cheek and kisses him tenderly. Although craving more of the warmth and sweetness, he only runs his tongue against Frank's bottom lip for a second before they break apart. Their eyes meet again, before Gerard gives him one more nervous, brief kiss. "I've wanted to do that for so long," he admits, voice trembling slightly.   
   
Frank's brown eyes are glazed over, as if he's lost in another world. He swallows, before stroking Gerard's hand with his thumb. "I'm sorry," he says, looking down.   
   
"What's wrong?" Gerard asks, terrified that he's fucked up. "Frank - what, why are you apologizing?"   
   
"You can't," Frank mumbles, conflicted. "We can't - you have to promise me that we can't."   
   
Gerard is starting to panic. "Can't what?"   
   
"Just promise," his voice tints with desperation.   
   
"Promise what?"   
   
"Just say it - I need you to say it."   
   
Gerard had said the same thing. Reluctantly, he nods. "Okay, I promise."   
  



	25. CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE - I LET YOU GET TO ME.

Gerard is confused.

It's not exactly something new; he always seems to be puzzling over one thing or another. Different problems are being hurdled at him from left and right, and there isn't much he can do about it. He leaves some question behinds, and struggles to answer others. Right this moment, Frank is on his mind. Again, this in itself isn't new either. One of Frank's hobbies seems to simply be 'confuse the living shit out of everybody at every given chance'. However, this time it's different. This time, it's intimate. Personal.

The kiss made sense. The kiss isn't what Gerard is concerned about. If anything, it's the highlight of his Goddamned pathetic life so far. What came afterwards however, is giving him a headache.

Frank had made him promise something; something he doesn't even know about. It confuses him, and he finds it hard to think through the younger boy's logic. Was he asking Gerard not to let another kiss happen? Was he asking Gerard not to take things further? None of it seems to make sense. Unless he's scared - which just makes Gerard feel feel like crap. Thinking about it, Frank had looked worried. Maybe not quite afraid. Just... worried. Maybe even guilty, which tends to be something Gerard is more familiar with.

But no matter what it is, Gerard isn't particularly willing to bring it up. Since last night, they'd barely spoken. It isn't as if they're ignoring each other - they're both just busy. Gerard is finishing his latest art piece, and Frank is helping Mikey pack some things up.

Ah, that's another thing. Mikey is moving out.

It was kind of a shock to everyone - especially with Alicia considered. They'd been together for over a year, but this new girl - Kristin. They've been dating for barely even a few months and suddenly they're living together. Gerard assumes that it's Mikey being precautious or something. He'd lost his last girlfriend, and it makes sense to be there to protect the next one. However, it doesn't really seem like she's going to die any minute. 

At some point throughout the day, Gerard has to venture upstairs. It would be somewhat of a dick move to be in his room while his little brother is venturing into adulthood. "You have a lot of crap, man," Gerard remarks once he spots all the boxes. Most of them are filled CD's and cheap horror flicks, and he prays that Kristin likes zombie classics, because she's going to be on her tenth run through of Dawn of the Dead by next week.

"Yeah, " Mikey says, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet. Gerard spots Frank in the corner of the room, frowning at Mikey's old walkman.

"I uh..." Gerard starts, unsure of exactly what he's going to say. Mikey gives him a questioning look. "Are you really doing this?"

Mikey smiles, and lets out a dry chuckle. "Don't say I'm crazy, dude. We're doing this."

"It's just a bit... sudden," Gerard comments. "How long have you been ah, thinking about this?"

"A few weeks," Mikey replies. His gaze travels Gerard's face for a moment, before he looks down at his feet and smiles. "Gee, I really love her," he says, then looks back up. There's something unmistakeable in his eyes. "You know what they say. The color bullshit is just... y'know, a way of knowing who you're compatible with. There doesn't have to be any rainbows to be y'know... in love."

Gerard is shaking his head, looking at his brother. "Dude, you're getting soppy as fuck."

"Yeah, I know," Mikey grins. "But I'm happy."

He's happy, Gerard thinks. That's all that matters. Mikey is his little brother, so he's supposed to be cheerful for him - glad that he's found a meaning or whatever. But even if they’re both grinning, Gerard can feel the tension between them. They’ve hardly gotten along in the last few weeks - and Mikey knows about what Gerard is hiding. He knows what Frank doesn’t, and it’s a surprise to him that it hasn’t been brought up recently. Gerard hopes, and he prays that maybe he’s forgotten about it. However, this is Mikey Way. He doesn’t forget a thing.

Gerard isn’t sure if he should bring this up or not. He feels bad for lying - fuck, he knows that he’d be in deep shit if Frank found out that he’s been hiding the truth. Considering how much of a big deal going to New York was for him, it must have been disappointing to return with nothing. When Gerard and Mikey found his mother’s house in just a few hours of research - it simply doesn’t seem fair.

But just like Gerard’s dilemma with telling Mikey that he can see color - it’s just too late. Maybe Gerard just has a problem with this. Ever since he’d been a kid, he’d been known to drag things out necessarily. He doesn’t know why - he just does. Lying, hiding and avoiding things has always been an issue. And now he’s doing the same thing to someone who is potentially the most important person his life. 

“Gee.”

Gerard blinks, snapping out of his thoughts. Mikey is staring at him, appearing slightly concerned. He raises an eyebrow, and Gerard forces a laugh as he looks down. “Sorry,” he apologises. “I - what were you saying?”

His little brother lets out a sigh. Narrowing his eyes, he purses his lips and turns his gaze into a glare. “What the fuck is going on with you?”

“Wh-what do you mean?”

“I mean this!” Mikey hisses, grabbing Gerard’s arm as he gestures around him. “Everything! You’re acting fucked up.”

A scowl. “I’m not fucked up.”

“Gerard, I’m not leaving here knowing that you’re still a mess,” Mikey growls, but Gerard can hear the worry in his tone. “I want an explanation.”

“An explanation?” Gerard leans in, lowering his voice. He shoots a glance behind him, confirmed that Frank is still distracted. 

Mikey nods. “Yes. You - you keep, dude you keep confusing the living shit outta me. All this stuff with Frank’s mom-” Gerard draws a hand across his throat, silently telling his brother to be quiet. “All this shit with Frank’s mom,” Mikey repeats in a whisper. “You won’t tell him, and I don’t know why. And then you announced that you guys are fucking each other-”

“I did not say that,” Gerard cuts him off, trying to emphasize each word. “I said boyfriends, not fuck buddies.”

“Yeah well the point is, I have no fucking clue when you’re lying to me anymore. I saw that look you gave Kristin - dude, you thought she was trying to rip on gays or something. I mean, just that morning you denied fucking Frank. Again. And then boom!” Mikey throws his hands into the air. “You guys are together.”

Gerard just doesn’t say anything. He stares at his feet, trying to work up some kind of method to get out of this. Eventually, a sigh drifts from his lips and both boys know that the conversation is over. Mikey gestures over to the other side of the room. “You’re wanted,” he says, before turning away to work on packing his things again.

Looking over his shoulder, Gerard spots Frank eyeing him curiously from the couch. Knowing that this is the first time since they’d spoken since last night, Gerard finds his stomach flipping slightly as he walks over. He drops himself down onto the couch. “You okay?” he asks half-heartedly. He only just processes the look in Frank’s eyes once the last syllable rolls from his tongue.

“Hello, Gerard,” he greets him, tilting his head slightly. “Your brother seems agitated.”

Gerard shakes his head. “Yeah, he’s pissed off.”

It’s now that Frank looks down, seemingly embarrassed. Gerard frowns, leaning forward to rest a hand on his arm. Before he can get a chance to ask what’s wrong, Frank speaks. “He’s because of me, isn’t he?” He looks up, brown guilty eyes meeting Gerard’s. “It’s because I - I’m gay, and I... I kissed you.”

“No,” Gerard replies immediantly, frowning heavily. “No, Frank, why would you think that? My brother isn’t a homophobe.” 

Frank isn’t as easily convinced. “He hasn’t looked me in the eye all morning,” he says, clearly troubled by the strange behaviour. “You told him we were in a relationship and now he hates me.”

Shaking his head again, Gerard chuckles slightly. “Mikey doesn’t hate you.”

“Then why is he acting like this?”

The older boy shrugs. “I think I pissed him off.”

“Gerard,” Frank narrows his eyes. “You shouldn’t urinate on your brother.”

Gerard just draws in a sharp breath at the remark. He closes his eyes and realigns himself mentally. “I didn’t... urinate on Mikey,” he says, voice slow as if Frank is finding him hard to understand. “But I am the reason he’s acting like a total douchebag.”

“I see...” Frank murmurs quietly. 

“Yeah.” Gerard moves closer, shifting his weight. “I’ll talk to him about it later.”

There are a few moments of silence after that, and Gerard watches as Mikey brings down another set of boxes. Their mother is also lurking around, cooing over her youngest son while helping him sort through his DVD collection. Gerard ignores them, switching the television onto some random crappy program about God knows what. He doesn’t even half watch, but suddenly Frank is tugging on his wrist. Looking up, Gerard sees Frank stood over him, and he pulls himself to his feet as the younger boy gestures to follow, hand still gently pulling him along. “Frank, what’re you...?” he tries to ask what is going on, but trails off once they enter his bedroom.

Frank sharply turns to him. “Can I kiss you again?” he asks, half-timid, half-excited.

Gerard gulps, suddenly feeling nervous. “I - ah, Frank-”

The younger of the two moves in closer, and Gerard easily gives in. He lets Frank reach up, standing on his toes to brush his jaw with his lips. It’s still innocent and soft; just like last night. He kisses slowly along Gerard’s throat, before their lips meet and he lets out a small whimper. Gentle but firmly, Gerard holds him back, before he pulls away. Frank opens his eyes, confused as to why they’d stopped. “Did I do something wrong?” he asks.

Pushing him away, Gerard shakes his head. “No, it’s ah...” he bites his own lip, eyebrows pinching together. “Frank - that promise last night, I thought...”

“Thought what?” Frank asks, and Gerard feels his heart hurt because fuck - Frank suddenly looks terrified at the thought of fucking up.

“I thought you didn’t... want this,” murmurs Gerard. “You didn’t make it very clear I... I don’t know what you meant - Frank, are you okay?” Worry seeps into his words.

Frank hangs his head, stepping backwards. “I’m fine,” he mumbles. He sits himself on the edge of his bed, and lifts a hand to touch his face. He freezes, and Gerard darts forwards. When he moves his hand out of the way, both of them see it - blood.

“You’re bleeding,” Gerard breathes, eyes widening as he starts to panic. “Frank, why are you bleeding?”

The younger boy wipes at his nose again, more blood smearing against the back of his hand. “I...” he starts to say something, but stops.

This only fuels Gerard’s panic. “Frank, this is getting serious,” he says, mind flashing towards the idea of New York and the possibilities surrounding it. “You - we should take you to a hospital.”

He shakes his head violently. “No,” he answers. More red. Gerard passes him a tissue. “No hospitals - no.”

“But what if you’re sick?” Gerard’s voice cracks. “What if you’re... What if this-”

“Shut up,” Frank hisses, shocking Gerard enough to turn silent. “I’m not going to the hospital. Don’t argue with me.”

“But-”

“Gerard, I’m fine,” he insists once again. “It’s nothing to be worried about - I must have just, hit my nose or something.”

Gerard doesn’t buy it. His eyes turn dark, and he withdraws slightly. “Frank, I need you to be honest with me,” he whispers, then looks back up. Their eyes meet. “In New York - did something... happen to you?”

A moment passes, and Frank doesn’t drop his gaze. “No,” he says. “Nothing happened.”


	26. CHAPTER TWENTY SIX - HE’S MY THING.

“It’s so strange...” Frank mumbles, frowning off into the distance. “I kind of miss your brother.”

Gerard lifts an eyebrow, wondering why Frank wouldn’t miss him. They’d always gotten along fairly well - although Mikey seemed to enjoy being around him soley to laugh at his social awkwardness. However, it isn’t Gerard who responds to Frank’s question. They haven’t been talking very much since the other day.

Instead, his mother is the one to speak. “Gerard,” she stabs a fork in the air at him, swallowing down part of a potato. “Isn’t it about time you got your own place? I can’t believe little Mikey beat you to it.”

“Mikey isn’t little,” Gerard retorts, looking down to play with his food. “He’s like twice as tall as me.”

“Clearly more mature, too,” she says, pouring more ketchup onto her food. Frank watches with needy eyes, almost drooling at the red mess.

Gerard ignores his dumb puppy dog looks. “Frank, just take the damn tomato sauce,” he grunts, knowing that the brunette is too inept to ask himself. “And mom - fuck off. You threatened to kick me out just a few weeks ago.”

“Don’t swear,” she tells him, and casts a glance to Frank. It’s as if she thinks that a few crude words will corrupt him forever. 

The next ten minutes is just a compilation of awkward family dinner, and Frank talking about random crap. Every now and then, he’ll shoot a question at Gerard, but the older man won’t ever give too much of a response. Eventually, he has to excuse himself from the table so that he can find some kind of escape. However, the minute he reaches the living room, Frank bounds up behind him and grabs at his sleeve.

He turns to face the younger boy, face tinted with anguish. “What?” Gerard asks, unable to look him in the eye.

Frank notices this, and sterns his gaze. “Gerard, you’ve been avoiding me and I’d like to know why.”

Gerard laughs - how can he not see it? It’s not particularly hard to work out. Frank is bullshitting him. He’s hiding something, and it’s something serious. Never mind Gerard and his little secret - Frank could be in real trouble but of course he’s taking it upon himself, and himself only to deal with. Nothing happened in New York? Gerard calls that a pile of crap. He just doesn’t understand why frank won’t tell him about it. Believe it or not, Gerard wants to help. That’s something he can’t do if he’s to believe that Frank is just some dozy kid with the flu who keeps smashing his nose into inanimate objects. Maybe Gerard is acting like an asshole right now, but Frank needs to get a grip, he thinks. 

“Why?” Gerard repeats, feigning confusion as he leans in. “Frank, you’ve been feeding me crap.”

“Why would I feed you e-”

“Shut up!” Gerard hisses, not in the mood for his ridiculous interpretation of modern day phrases. “Frank - you won’t tell me the Goddamned truth,” he presses.

He looks down, sighing at his feet. “There’s nothing to be said,” he insists, then returns his gaze to Gerard’s face. “So please, Gerard - stop being so angry with me.”

Gerard searches his chocolate brown eyes, finding nothing but guilt and desperation. He wants to say yes, that he will stop being angry. He wants to drop everything, leave all of these accusations behind - but the idea of Frank being hurt makes him feel sick. It’s something that he can’t just ignore.

But he cares. Too much.

“I’m not angry,” he then murmurs, pulling Frank closer. “I’m just worried about you.”

Frank smiles slightly. “I’m fine,” he replies, and Gerard doesn’t believe him. But he still leans down, and kisses him tenderly before taking his hand.

“How about we go watch a film?” Gerard proposes.

They both end up on the couch, Donnie Darko playing on the television. Gerard keeps up with his façade, smiling and laughing - but he can’t help but think about what Frank is trying to do here. He doesn’t know exactly what his intentions are and all of it is becoming one great big mind fuck. Yet again, Gerard’s cycle of demise is repeating. He’s gained what he wanted, but something else has to appear and screw over all of his plans. And as usual, Frank is at the heart and soul of it.

He feels like an ass for thinking it, but it’s true - Frank is the cause of his problems. But then, all of this can easily be rooted to their meeting. That’d had been purely Gerard's fault, and he’s sure this would all be easy breezing if he hadn’t been such a fucking idiot. It’s difficult to blame the pin on anyone, and so Gerard ends up picking out New York. It’s hard not to see that something had gone down over there, and whatever the fuck it was - Gerard hates it. With that to channel his negative feelings into, maybe he’ll feel a little better. Throwing all of this at someone other than himself or Frank is only rational. 

But then there is the other scenario. The one Frank claims to be true. Skeptical of course, Gerard isn’t headfirst for believing it. However, it would more ideal. Frank just having a case of the flu - it’s possible. Gerard had been ill those few days, and it’d be easy for Frank to catch it. After Mikey had also pulled at his medical details, it was also revealed that he has some kind of problem with his lungs, which would easily explain all of this.

 

But that isn’t taking into consideration Frank’s strange behavior. Making Gerard keep promises that seem to hold no context, showing all the signs of a bad poker face when asked if he’s okay - the list goes on, far beyond that. But paranoia is always something Gerard has dealt with. Only, he he can’t trust himself to just pass it all off for his mind playing tricks on him. It’s all too important. Too worrying. Too serious.

When Frank starts coughing from the other side of the couch, Gerard looks at him with pity. He wants to reach out and wrap an arm around him. He wants to protect him, but he can’t keep him safe from something he won’t tell him about. With a sigh, he scoots over anyway. “Come here,” he says, and Frank moves so that Gerard can rest his head against his shoulder. “Promise me something?” he asks in a whisper, not taking his eyes from the TV.

Frank strokes his hair, and Gerard practically melts beneath the movement. This kind of contact has been something he’s missed since Lindsey was in his life. “Of course,” Frank mumbles in response to the question.

“Don’t leave me,” murmurs Gerard.

“I wouldn’t do that,” he replies, then drapes an arm over Gerard’s shoulder.

He sinks further into the comfort. “You already did, remember?”

“That was different,” Frank fires back a response, twisting his body slightly so that he can look Gerard in the eye. “That was when we didn’t... didn’t-”

“Kiss?” Gerard arches a brow. Frank’s awkwardness gets the best of him, sending his cheeks ablaze. It’s cute, Gerard thinks, and he smiles. The brunette grows timid, shying away slightly until Gerard tilts his chin up with his free hand. It suddenly feels good to push everything from his mind. Gerard doesn’t let himself think, and with a worry-free conscience - he can simply relish in the moment for a damn change. “Y’know, you’re adorable,” he compliments softly, gazing into Frank’s warm brown eyes. That initiates it.

Like their first, Frank leans forward and kisses Gerard. The older of the two smiles into the collision, eyes falling closed as a jolt of adrenaline runs through his veins. His lips are firm against Frank’s, and he deepens the kiss when he feels his tongue scrape his teeth. It’s sweet, but much more fueled than the few other brief moments of contact they’d shared. Gerard is soon on his back, Frank pressing shy kisses along his jaw as their hands find each other. The warm feeling spreads across his skin and fuck - it just feels so good.

Their eyes connect again, and Gerard feels his breath hitch as Frank’s fingers start pulling at the hem of his shirt. Nervously, he leans up and presses his mouth against Frank’s, tongue licking at his bottom lip, enticing a small whimper from the younger boy. He bites down softly, before he closes his eyes again and the kiss grows more passionate.

Only then, they both hear a familiar voice behind them. “Can I... ah, can I get my DVD?”

Gerard freezes with panic, before he shoots up to spot his younger brother stood awkwardly pointing at the television. He swallows. “Mikey, what are you doing here?” he asks, while Frank turns a vibrant shade of red.

“I could ask you what you were doing with Frank,” he says, a half-smug look on his face. “But I won’t.” He then walks in front of them, and drops to his knees in front of the DVD player, before Donnie Darko suddenly cuts out. He stands up, then shakes his head at his brother. “I’ll just let you ladies continue.”

Frank is the one to break the silence once the younger Way brother is gone. “I feel all fuzzy.”

Gerard runs a hand through his tousled hair, then lets out a small burst of dry laughter. “I bet you’ve got a lump in your pants, too,” he says, and notices Frank look down. “Anyway, looks like my brother stole your favorite film.”

“It’s a shame,” says Frank. “I suppose I will just have to buy my own copy.”

They look at each other - both somewhat messed up from the experience. However, they can see that whatever ‘mood’ had been there is now gone. Gerard sighs, falling backwards as he closes his eyes. “I enjoyed that,” he says, more to himself than anyone else.

Frank still picks up on it. “It was a good movie,” his voice is dampened with sadness.

Gerard rolls his eyes, and tilts his head in Frank’s direction. “Not the film, dumbass.”

It takes a second, then Frank’s eyes brighten with realization. He blushes again, biting his bottom lip. “I enjoyed it too.”

Gerard smiles at him again, but this time it doesn’t meet his eyes. Everything returns, crawling at first. The worry settles back in and the dread roots itself back into his stomach. It doesn’t take long for Gerard’s temporary state of ignorance to fade away completely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guys on a side note i want to ask a question
> 
> i'd really appreciate it if you let me know your thoughts 
> 
> so i had an idea. would you read a sequel?
> 
> like a sorta sequel. it's not a sequel to this story, but it's still a grayverse fic with a different plot
> 
> idek if that makes sense but it basically means that there will be no cas frank ;-; however it means i keep writing which is pretty important but idek i just need to know if anyone would be interested as there's not really any point in trying another color/gray fic thing if i have no audience. it'd still be frerard and all that blah but i'm just so in love with the concept of the story that i'd love to give it another shot
> 
> opinions?
> 
> xofeb


	27. CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN - I KNOW YOU FEEL SO BAD.

It’s 9 PM on a Friday afternoon, and Gerard is stood just outside Mikey’s apartment.

Tapping his foot impatiently, he waits for his younger brother to let him inside. It’s already been ten minutes, and Gerard is starting to think that no one is even home. Judging from the phone call he’d received while playing Mario Kart with Frank, Kristin is away at some fashion designing thing. Therefore, Mikey has the place to himself. Gerard isn’t sure why him of all people had been invited to have ‘guy time’, but he’d shrugged it off and driven over. It’s his brother. Ignoring him is kinda hard.

He’s just about to pull out his cell, when he hears footsteps in the hallway behind him. He turns to see Mikey, trying to balance three pizza boxes in one hand as he handles the door with the other. Tempted to stand back and laugh at his brother, Gerard shakes his head before walking over and lending him a hand. 

“Thanks,” Mikey mumbles, managing to get past the door. He then looking at Gerard for a quick second before gesturing for him to follow.

“You got all that?” Gerard asks, trying not to laugh again as Mikey struggles to pull his keys out.

The younger brother is stubborn. “Yes,” he grunts, shoving his key chain into his mouth while he re-adjusts his grip on the pizza. Gerard moves forward to take the jangling object, but Mikey growls and he backs off. After a few more minutes of nail biting suspense, they both finally manage to get in. Mikey, relieved to have dumped the fast food on the coffee table, stretches his back and gestures for his brother to sit down.

Gerard waves him off, wanting to take a look at the place before anything else. “It’s posh,” he remarks, staring in confusion at the fancy lights on the ceiling. “Dude this place is mega posh.”

Mikey shrugs, looking slightly pleased with himself. He cracks open a beer, and sits down. “Yeah, well... Kristin’s a posh chick.”

“Looks like you scored,” Gerard remarks.

That’s when Mikey smirks sightly, giving him a questioning glance as he shakes his head. “And so did you,” he comments, and Gerard tries not to roll his eyes. “Are we gonna talk about that?”

Gerard frowns, moving to sit down beside his brother. “Is that... is that the only reason I’m here?” his voice shows that he’s slightly disappointed. “Well jeez, Mikes. And here I was thinking we could play some video games and watch a horror film.”

“Well, we can do that,” Mikey suggests, gesturing to his huge flat screen TV. “After you tell me everything about you and Frank.”

A sigh, and Gerard takes a seat. “Since when is it any of your business?” he asks, narrowing his eyes slightly. 

Mikey shrugs, then takes another sip of his beer. “I’m your brother,” he says. “So tell me.”

“Tell you what?”

“Why you and Frank were making out on the couch, maybe? I’m not sure.” Mikey feigns confusion, looking up at the ceiling.

Slightly fed up, Gerard closes his eyes. “Look, Mike-”

“Jesus fucking ch- Gerard,” Mikey draws in a breath, then continues. “I’m just curious, okay? Stop trying to hide it like it’s bad.”

“There’s still nothing to know,” Gerard explains. “I live in the same room as him, so y’know - well, it’s kinda hard not to.”

Mikey lifts an eyebrow. “Kinda hard not to?”

Nodding, Gerard leans back slightly. “Yeah,” he says, then runs a hand through his hair. “There’s a mutual interest, and he’s good looking, obviously, so we just - we just clicked.”

“You just... clicked?”

“Yeah.”

For a second, the room is silent. Mikey bites his lip, avoiding eye contact for the short moment. He looks back up. “Don’t you think he’s a little... naive?”

Gerard blinks. “Naive?” he repeats.

“Like... innocent,” Mikey tries to explain, but only earns an annoyed scowl from his brother.

“What are you saying?” his voice becomes a hiss. “Mikey I haven’t - Jesus Christ no, what do you think I do? Fuck him all day?”

Gerard, feeling appalled, stares at his brother. “Well... he did give you that condom,” Mikey drawls.

“Fuck off,” Gerard grunts, pretty much done with his brother’s shit. “Can we just get to the video games and horror flicks already.”

They end up playing Resident Evil, reminding Gerard of that time he’d asked Ray to come over. It feels like years ago, and he can’t help but feel guilty at how little they’d been speaking recently. Since Frank has appeared, Gerard has been shutting himself off from everybody, and it’s no secret either. He’s had a few texts from Bert, each of which have gone ignored and well, Gerard can’t really think of anyone else he’d ever been ‘close’ to. Before all of this, he thought he had friends - but it just turns out now that he can barely recall their names anymore. It just goes to show how he’s changed, be it for the better or not.

The pizza is delicious - Mikey knows exactly where his weaknesses lie. If it wasn’t for each slice of heaven, he’d be long gone by now. Especially taking into consideration what his brother had accused him off. Needless to say, Gerard is fucking pissed. However, it’s Mikey, and there is pizza. Back home, Frank can surely wait for a few more hours. Gerard is sure that he’s busy occupying himself with one thing or another - probably the mechanics of comic books again. Recently, he’d spent far too much time trying to figure out which one is Spiderman, and which one is Deadpool.

But putting Spidey and the obnoxious anti-hero aside, Gerard turns to his brother as he pauses the game. He feels a little uncertain of what he’s going to say at first, but he makes it clear that there is something on his mind. Mikey notices more or less immediantly. “Dude - we were on a killing spree,” he complains, as if it’s actually important whether they get an S on the mission or not.

“Mikes,” Gerard says in a slow beginning to a question. “Do you think... do you really think that me and Frank is not a good idea?”

Apparently, Mikey wasn’t expecting that. He looks taken aback for a moment, before he aligns himself. “I think he makes you happy,” he says, voice slightly quieter than before. “I ah - if sex... then, uh...” he grows flustered, as if he’s uncomfortable talking about such an intimate issue with his older brother.

Gerard finds himself laughing. “Grow up, Mikes, I’m assuming you’ve gotten it up with Kristin?”

He grows even more flustered. “Shut up,” he says, and unpauses the game before angrily chopping a zombie’s head off.

“What is this? Eighth grade?” Gerard smirks, nudging him with his elbow. But Mikey seems to be embarrassed because of a slightly different reason. Realization crosses Gerard’s face. “Oh...” he says, staring at his brother. “You haven’t, have you?”

Mikey narrows his eyes at the screen, but throws his controller into the other couch when his character dies. He turns to his brother. “It’s none of your business,” he tries to say, but Gerard refuses to take such bullshit.

“If you don’t tell me, I’m going to assume that her vagina has teeth,” Gerard says, expression earnest as he draws his knees onto the sofa. Mikey looks at him, noticing that his shoes are most likely going to leave dirt all over the cream leather.

The younger brother is reluctant, but he speaks. “No teeth,” he starts. “She just, y’know. Doesn’t believe in sex before marriage or whatever.”

It clicks inside of Gerard’s head. “Is this why you’re moving in so early?” Mikey doesn’t say anything. “Dude, you’re that committed?”

“Gee-” Mikey starts, but shuts his mouth. He takes a second to think. “I love her.”

“I can see that,” Gerard comments. “And I’d say that Alicia would want you to go ahead with that, but I dunno man - she was pretty into you.”

They both laugh, but it’s short lived. Awkwardly, Mikey bites his lip before asking the obvious question that goes with this conversation. “Do you love Frank?”

Gerard snorts. “C’mon, Mikes. I don’t-_

“You’re so lying,” Mikey murmurs, staring at his brother. “You’re head over fucking heels for him.”

“Do we have to turn this into a cheesy rom-com?” Gerard asks, pain filling his voice.

Mikey shrugs.

Gerard closes his eyes, cursing mentally. He should have known that Mikey had planned this. Suddenly, the pizza isn’t so good and he wants to go home. “I’m guessing you don’t plan on staying much longer,” Mikey reads his mind, and Gerard nods his head.

“Yeah, he uh... he’s waiting for me,” he says, getting up so that he can pull his jacket back on.. “Thanks for the pizza.”

Mikey walks him to the door, and just before his brother leaves, he clears his throat. “Uh, Gerard,” he says, capturing his attention. “Don’t lie to him.” The look on Gerard’s younger brother’s face is one of concern. Gerard purses his lips, keeping eye contact for only another brief second before leaving.

The drive home is quiet, with Gerard not having the heart to turn the radio on. A few cigarettes later, he pulls up outside of his house. Upon entering, he realizes just how much of a freaking dump the place is. Then again, it’s his unsanitary habits that brand him as a Way. His mother is the only one who even attempts to keep things in order.

Frank is sat at his computer, researching something that Gerard doesn’t understand. Too many big scientific words are included for him to pay attention. As soon as Frank realizes that there is someone behind him, he closes the laptop and turns around. “Hey,” Gerard greets him, kicking his shoes off. “What’re you looking at?”

For a moment, Frank doesn’t say anything. It’s only when Gerard looks up that he forces himself to speak. “Ah - oh, um.... physics,” he says.

“Physics?” Gerard raises an eyebrow, shaking his head. 

“It’s interesting,” Frank defends. “Put the cat in a box with poison, and it’ll be both alive and dead at the same time.”

Gerard just shakes his head, making it clear that he has no idea what he’s talking about. He decides to start a different conversation. “So, I saw Mikey’s new place. It’s fucking huge.”

“How is he doing?” asks Frank.

“Fine, I guess...” Gerard mumbles, thinking back to what his brother had told him. “He seems happy.”

Frank gives him a wry smile. “I’m glad.”

“Yeah,” Gerard agrees, but he seems distracted. “So am I.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> holy shit 
> 
> the feedback you guys gave me about the sequel idea was just
> 
> amazing
> 
> thank you so much
> 
> ily guys
> 
> xofeb


	28. CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT - ARTWORK.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> most of you already know who i am, but could you guys check me out on facebook? i post updates about all my stories there and write weird statuses that make me look like i'm drugs every night at 3 am.
> 
> https://www.facebook.com/phoebe.moraes

“You look better today, Frank,” Donna smiles across the table. “I’d say you’ve got your color back, but really you’re just not quite as bleach white today.”

Gerard glances at the brunette, stifling a laugh because he’s still flustered and blushing. Before they’d been called up for dinner, they’d both been more or less making out on Gerard’s bed. There’s no other way to put it, and there is no glamorizing the fact that Frank really seems to have a thing for neck kissing. Gerard tries to hide that he’s thinking about this by stuffing a pancake into his mouth, whereas Frank tries not to smile or crack his poker face.

Luckily, Donna seems to get distracted. She fails to notice the strange behaviour, while Frank trades a soulful glance with his friend. Boyfriend, Fuck knows - Gerard has no idea how this works. Despite the confusion though, it’s clear that they’d rather be alone once again. Not necessarily to continue what they’d started, but just because it’s so Goddamned awkward with his mother in the room. While Mikey was around, there would at least be one other body in the room to fuel topics of discussion, but both Frank and Gerard are too dazed to make Sunday dinner small talk. 

Making an escape as early as possible, Gerard tugs at Frank’s sleeve once he’s finished. They excuse themselves, then head back down to his bedroom. Donna, most likely in the know, doesn’t comment. All she gives them before they leave is a glance of questioning - similar to the looks Mikey would constantly throw at Gerard before he’d come half-clean. “You’re still blushing,” Gerard comments once they’re alone, unable to stop himself from smiling. “It’s adorable.”

“I can’t help it,” Frank grunts, annoyed slightly as he rubs his eyes. “And saying things like that won’t help.”

Smiling at Frank’s ridiculous charm, Gerard pulls him closer and presses a kiss to his cheek. “I’m gonna do some art,” he says, taking both of Frank’s hands as they face each other. “So you can go back to looking at your physics or whatever.”

Frowning, Frank lingers once Gerard moves over to his bed. The older man pulls his sketchpad into his lap, and reaches over to take a pencil from his desk. Curious, Frank peers over his shoulder. “Don’t watch, Frank. I’m trying to draw,” Gerard mumbles, trying to shoo away the younger boy as he flips the pad to a fresh page. 

“Why can’t I watch?” His eyes sadden, as if he’s being betrayed.

Beginning to scribble in the start of a face, Gerard shrugs. “It puts me off.”

“Can’t you draw later?”

“Frank, I’m trying to concentrate-”

“Please?”

Gerard turns to face him, face stern. “What is wrong with you?” he asks. “You’re so damn needy today. It’s kinda freaking me out.” His voice turns softer towards the end of the sentence.

He gives him that look of innocence -that Goddamned naivety. Gerard is starting to think he’s been acting this whole time, knowing just how damn easy he can work magic with his puppy eyes. But Frank’s lip quivers, and Gerard ends up leaning over to kiss the brunette softly, before moving away and smirking. “Again,” Frank whispers, eyes slightly glazed with something unfamiliar.

“What are you?” Gerard asks with a frown. “In the heat or something?”

Frank shrugs. “I wouldn’t say that. I just feel much better, as your mother pointed out.”

“Well just don’t start rubbing yourself off on the bed post,” Gerard mumbles rolling his eyes. However, he finds himself smiling because it’s true. Frank does seem to be feeling better today. Sure, he’s annoying the hell out of him, but it is somewhat or a reminder that things are looking up. It seems that they might not have to drive down to the hospital, but Gerard is keeping a careful eye on him regardless. Considering how secretive he’s been - he can’t be sure until everything is entirely back to normal.

But no matter how normal Frank’s wellbeing is, he’s still been acting strangely out of character. Maybe not quite enough for his mother or Mikey to notice, but it’s there - and Gerard can see it. Be it in the constant need for attention, or the guilt that always seems to be lurking in his eyes - something is amiss here. He just wishes that Frank would tell the truth.

“What else is in there?” Frank asks, bringing Gerard out of his brief second of thought. He blinks, and looks at the brunette, who is pointing at his sketchpad. Gerard looks back down, and feels slightly uncomfortable. He’s never really shown his art to anyone before. Not his good art anyway, not the work that he really puts effort into. Most of which, lies within the pages of the book in his lap.

“Nothing interesting,” he mumbles, hoping to easily squeeze out of the question.

However, Frank is being persistent as ever today. “You draw in it a lot,” he states, bringing in the obvious. “But you always hide it. You don’t hide your other ones.”

Gerard sighs, knowing that he won’t give up any time soon. “It’s just... art,” he says, shrugging his shoulders. It also happens to be full of color, mainly because everyone else in his house would freak out if they saw any of it. Frank knows, and Gerard also assumes that he understands who for - but he’s still reluctant. “It’s my art.”

“I won’t laugh,” Frank says, as if he really thinks saying a thing like that will help. “Promise.”

With the slight toss of his head, Gerard sighs half-heartedly. Goddammit - he looks up, and Frank’s face is something he simply can’t say no to. Going out of his way to look annoyed, he shoves the portfolio to his right. Frank smiles, taking it with gentle hands. “Don’t smudge anything,” Gerard growls, a blatant warning in his tone. 

Frank is careful, handling each page as if it could crumble with even the slightest amount of pressure. Gerard admires this, feeling glad that Frank holds respect for his art. It means a lot, especially considering that this is his life work, condensed into just a few brief months of color. 

“This one is my favourite,” Frank murmurs, then points to a messy sketch Gerard remembers splashing some water color over. The man and the woman, stood facing each other with blood splattered across their faces. Honestly, Gerard thought that Frank would pick one of the less violent depictions as a favourite. Something like one of the punk cats he’d drawn, maybe. He shakes his head internally - Frank is a dog person. But right now, he seems to be a Fred and Rosemary West person. He nods, and looks up to catch Frank’s gaze. “I’m seeing it for you, aren’t I?” the younger boy whispers.

Gerard swallows, glancing at the painting for a split second. Upon looking back up into his eyes, the chocolate with a hint of hazel seems to leave an imprint in him. Until Frank, all he’d have seen would be gray, dull eyes. Some people would have a shine in them - a spark of life, but it was all so lifeless back then. The world was cold, and it made Gerard feel cold. He bites his lip. “Yes.”

There’s a moment of silence, where Gerard can feel the words ‘I love you’ just scraping over the tip of his tongue. But he swallows it down, kissing Frank gently on the lips instead. “I wish I didn’t go to New York,” he murmurs once they break apart. “I wish I’d stayed here.”

A slice of hesitation; doubt; suspicion. Gerard feels it. He doesn’t know what to think, much less what to say. So he pushes it from his mind and smiles, stroking his thumb gently over the back of Frank’s hand. It’s easier just to forget and to ignore. He’s done it all his life in the form of getting drunk, so why not now? It makes life easier. Everything becomes simple and numbed out. Only this time, he’s not drinking - which is some kind of bonus. So instead of worrying, he just kisses Frank again. He feels like a cliché to admit it, but he really is a drug.

Since the experience involving Mikey walking in on them, things have been chaste. Neither of them dares to venture further than where they’ve already gotten, and Gerard is fine with it. More than anything, he’s simply glad that Frank is by his side; that Frank is his. That alone is enough to last him a lifetime.

It’s all so different compared to the time he’d spent with Lindsey. Yes, he loved her, but not in the way he loves Frank. Everything is sweet and delicate, whereas it had been messy and dangerous before. She had been good for him, but Gerard was just so scared that he was never good enough. That alone was enough to bring things down, but in reality it was because he was selfish. He’s glad that he left her, as it’s hard to tell where that relationship was heading, and it also set him on the path to meeting Frank.

But Gerard still wishes it could have been any other way. If he’d been sober that night - if he’d just paid attention. If Bert hadn’t challenged him to that stupid drinking competition, maybe this web of lies wouldn’t even exist. Gerard wouldn’t have hidden things, and he wouldn’t feel his gut burn every time the color red is presented to him. Frank wouldn’t have lost his memory, and he’d have never felt the need to go searching for it. 

Gerard tries to stop thinking negatively. They end up looking through more of his art, Frank’s favourite never swaying from his initial choice. Gerard finds himself hoping that things can stay like this. He hopes once day he can tell his mother, come clean to Mikey and maybe even get out of this damned house. A job maybe, or as Frank is telling him, pursue an art career again. It could all work out, he thinks. Life could be something other than a pile of balls, and they could be happy.

It sounds too good to be true, but it feels possible. Everything seems to slowly be coming together. 

Gerard just hopes that he doesn’t fuck things up in the meantime.


	29. CHAPTER TWENTY NINE - EVERYTHING IS DISGUST AND MISTRUST.

“I don’t understand,” Frank murmurs, frowning as they approach the cafe. “We have a coffee machine at home, why would we come here?”

Gerard sighs, trying not to let Frank’s stupidity get to him. “Because in the entire time that I’ve known you - we’ve not once had Starbucks together,” he explains, talking about it with an authoritative importance.

They continue to walk, and Frank decides to explore the place once they’re inside. Gerard pays him no attention, ordering two coffees as he smiles at the girl behind the counter. She nods at him and disappears for a moment, before returning and fixing him with the drinks. However, she suddenly looks concerned, staring over Gerard’s shoulder with a frown. “Oh, for fucks sake...” she mumbles, then draws in a tired breath before sighing. “Sir, I’ll be right back.”

Confused at her sudden annoyance, Gerard turns around, trying to see what is going on. He sees Frank, and immediantly feels like letting the earth engulf him. For whatever reason, he has his arm stuck in the bottom of a vending machine. Most people in the room are staring at him, faces of wonder as he struggles to pull out what looks like a bottle of soda. Gerard shrinks back, biting his lip as the girl approaches him, and asks him to leave.

Frank doesn’t look as if he’s quite ready to do that. He keeps pulling, cursing and grunting as he tries banging his shoulder against the machine. Lost for words, Gerard tries to figure out why he thought this would be a good idea. Not wanting to let this drag out, he nervously walks over and tugs at Frank’s arm. “Dude, let’s go.”

Of course, Frank just looks up, face full of confusion. Gerard tugs again, and the woman intervenes. “Sir, do you know this man?” she asks, what seems to be a hint of disgust in her carefully controlled voice. 

With a sigh, Gerard nods. “He... he’s not usually like this,” he explains, yanking Frank back up to his feet. The younger boy adjusts himself, straightening his jacket. “I’m so sorry - we’ll ah... we’ll be leaving now.”

They make a quick escape, Gerard hurrying down the sidewalk for half a block before slowing down. “You wanna explain what the fuck you were doing?” he asks, turning sharp on his heel to scold Frank.

“I saw your name on a coke bottle,” he answers, eyebrows still pinched together. 

Gerard rolls his eyes, unable to stay angry. He slaps a hand on Frank’s back, and they start to walk again. “Maybe we can find another Starbucks,” he says, but doesn’t really feel like going for coffee anymore. “Or maybe we could just go home.... like you said, we already have a co-”

“We should stay longer,” Frank says. “New Jersey is a beautiful place.”

Skeptical, Gerard raises an eyebrow and glances at his surroundings. “It’s a beautiful shit hole, I guess.”

Frank gives him half a glare, pursing his lips. “You shouldn’t disrespect your home,” he presses, but Gerard just waves him off with a hand of ignorance. They continue to pass throughout the town, until Gerard realizes that he’s walking into very familiar territory. He feels slightly uncomfortable, recognizing the bar from across the street. Outside, he spots someone - a head of greasy black hair and a cheesy grin. Instantly, Gerard feels his blood freeze as he tries to quicken his pace. “Hey - Gerard!”

And it’s too late. He’s been noticed, and now he’s doomed.

Frank nudges him when he tries to keep walking. “I think someone wants to talk to you,” he says, leaning back to stare in curiosity at the stranger. “Gerard.”

“What?” Gerard snaps, wanting nothing more than to hide in a dark alley.

“There’s a strange man trying to gain your attention,” Frank points out the obvious, making Gerard’s skin itch.

He turns slowly, and sees Bert McCracken waving him over. “Fuck,” he murmurs, too quiet for anyone to hear. Bert shouts to him again, but notices that Gerard has no intention of moving. So, he glances left then right, before awkwardly dashing across the road.

“Hey,” he pants, breathing staggering from having to run over. “Gee - it’s been a while. How are you?”

Gerard - not knowing what the fuck to say - simply straightens his posture, staring at his old friend with anything but ease. “I’m great,” he eventually manages to mumble.

Bert grins again, wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead. “That’s good man. I heard you got like... sober and shit.”

“Yeah,” he replies hesitantly.

“It must be tough,” Bert then says, nodding slowly. “I mean... are you even still allowed to drive?”

Gerard jerks slightly. “Bert-”

“No - no judgement man. I know it was just an accident,” he cuts him off, not giving him room to panic. “Who’s this?” he then directs his gaze to Frank. “You got another brother you didn’t tell me about?”

“Um, no we ah-”

Frank steps forward. “I’m his boyfriend.”

Bert raises an eyebrow, before his trademark grin fills his face again. He moves back, looking at the two as a couple, nodding. “Man - that’s fucking cute.”

Gerard closes his eyes, wishing for everything to be over. This isn’t what he needs, dammit. Unlike Frank, Gerard would like to stay as far away from his past as possible. There was a reason he’d cut himself off from the outside world. “So um, how are you holding up?” Gerard then asks, hoping to move the conversation along. Besides, he’s not a complete asshole. Bert was one of his closest friends during the better part of two years.

“I found her,” Bert smiles, and Gerard feels a wave of confusion pass through him. Sensing Gerard’s uncertainty, Bert explains himself. “Remember last time we spoke? We talked about seeing pink and shit? Well, I did.” He looks proud of himself. “Gerard Way, I am proud to announce that your eyes are green.”

Gerard notices Frank tense up beside him. “They’re hazel, actually,” the brunette informs them.

Bert blinks. At first, he hadn’t considered it. Now he looks at them again, slightly baffled. “You’re joking, right?” he says. “You - are you two...?”

“It’s a long story,” Gerard tries to speed things up again. “Look, Bert - we’ve got somewhere to be-”

“No, no - it’s cool, man,” Bert slices his sentence in half, making a habit of interruption. “Just... be careful. Me? I have an open mind. But others? Some people don’t really like... this.” He gestures to the both of them as one. “Be careful.”

Finally, he leaves and Gerard has a chance to breathe in relief. They walk away from town for a little while, until the bar is no where to be seen and they appear to be walking around the edge of a small wood. Gerard thinks about the warning he’d been given, knowing full well that Bert is right. There are plenty of homophobes out there, but Gerard doesn’t ever plan on coming into contact with one. Mainly because of Frank - he’d hate for him to see something so disgusting. 

“I didn’t like him” Frank announces out of the blue. 

They both stop, and Gerard lets his knees go weak as he sits down, tired from walking so far. The grass beneath him is soft and warm. “Bert?” he asks, tilting his head to Frank as he too, sits down. “He’s not that bad. Just a pain in the ass.”

Frank’s lips pinch to the side as he frowns. “You didn’t look comfortable around him.”

Leaning over, Gerard smiles. “That’s because he was getting in the way,” he murmurs.

“Of what?” Frank asks obliviously.

Gerard smirks. “This.”

Light-heartedly, he tackles Frank to the ground with a kiss. The younger boy lets out a small yelp, laughing as Gerard runs a hand underneath his shirt. “Gee,” he manages to choke out, unable to say his name properly. Gerard grins and and presses his lips back down on Frank’s, smiling into the movement as he moves a hand further along his chest.

“Hey - what’s that?” he suddenly pulls back, feeling something in the pocket of Frank’s jacket. The brunette blushes, reaching in to pull out a bottle of coke. They sit up, and he hands it to Gerard. “You were serious about it having my name?” he asks, trying not to smile at the gesture.

Frank nods. “I’ve been told that the best way to gain someone’s affections is to share a personalised carbonated soda with them.”

Feeling his cheeks burn, Gerard opens the bottle. “You’re such a dork,” he comments, before holding the bottle to Frank’s lips. The younger boy takes a sip, before Gerard ends up drinking half the contents in one go. He leans his head against Frank’s shoulder, staring off into the distance. A short moment then seems to last a year, and Gerard decides that this is how things are going to be from now on.

It’s just so peaceful.

He moves slightly, and plants a soft kiss on Frank’s neck. “I love you,” he mumbles.

But that’s when he feels Frank freeze up. His body tenses, and Gerard frowns at the odd reaction. He adjusts himself again, looking into Frank’s eyes only to find them cold and desolate. “Gerard, you promised,” he whispers.

“Promised what?” he asks. “I dunno what you’re talking about, dude.”

Frank’s eyes sadden. “After I kissed you... you promised.”

More confusion, and Gerard starts to feel panic in his gut. “Frank you didn’t - you didn’t tell me what I was promising.”

The younger boy closes his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

More uncertainty. “For what?” asks Gerard, his eyes widening as the possibilities start to race through his mind. 

“For lying to you,” he mumbles, voice growing quieter. “Gerard, I’m not sick. I don’t have the flu.”

And it’s the terror in Frank’s voice that scares Gerard the most. He swallows. “I don’t understand...”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Frank laughs, voice dry with guilt. “The fevers, the headaches... the nosebleeds. I can’t sleep and when I do - nightmares. You noticed it was more - that it was... too much, didn’t you?”

“Frank, you’re scaring me.” Gerard’s voice shakes. He knows what’s about to come. He just doesn’t want to hear it. He doesn’t want to acknowledge it. He just wants to go back to ignoring.

Frank takes another sip of cola, then glances back at Gerard. “I’m dying.”


	30. CHAPTER THIRTY - SO DEEP THAT IT DIDN’T EVEN BLEED.

The photograph between his fingers is soft, yellowed with age. The image is of a girl. She’s about the same age as him, smiling and grinning into the outdated camera. Her white dress is ruffled, floating in the wind as she clutches at the chains of the swing she is sat on. Toes pointing down, her pumps don’t quite touch the dusty earth beneath her, and she leans forward as if she’s laughing. Everything about the picture is filled with joy - happiness. It’s a good memory.

He turns it over gently, the paper making a satisfying sound beneath his touch. The back of the photograph is dated to 1949, and has a scribble of ‘Jersey with Elena’ written beside it. Gerard smiles, feeling his eyes tear up. She’d passed away years ago now, and it’s not something that the family like to discuss. His grandmother had more or less taught him everything he knows - how to paint, sing, and she even attempted to teach him guitar as a child. He looked up to her, only making her death even more painful.

And now he’s having to face it all over again.

Firstly, he feels like a coward. Denial. Ignorance. Anger. The last few days have been filled with these emotions, partly because he still can’t face him. He and Frank haven’t spoken - not properly. Sure, Gerard has to communicate with him when Mikey is around. Nothing more than quiet mumbles or a nod, but he can’t look him in the eyes. He can tell that Frank wants to talk, but Gerard just refuses to let him do so. It’s the easy way out - for now.

He knows that things can’t stay like this between them forever, but how else is he supposed to respond? Gerard is hurt. He’s fucking hurt because he’s been lied to, and now it’s too late to help. It’s left him feeling useless. This entire mess - it’s his fucking fault. He’s the one who let Frank go to New York. He’s the one who let him get hurt, right? So of course, Gerard pins the blame on himself. He just doesn’t know what to do.

A tangle of angst and depression - that’s what he feels this exact moment. He’s smiling sadly, crying as he tries to figure out how to cope with this. He doesn’t know why he’d picked up the photograph of his grandmother, but something about it seems to help. Even if it makes him feel sad, it makes him feel better. An oxymoron at it’s best, Gerard slips it back into his sketchpad. It’s safe in there.

Neither he or Frank have explained the situation to anybody. Both Mikey and Donna are still in the dark, like they are with most things that happen. Without all of the extra fuss, Gerard finds that he can try and catch up with things by himself. Since Frank has guessed that Gerard needs space, he’s taken up with sleeping in Mikey’s room recently - something the older man is grateful for, but at the same time, despises. He wants to be with Frank, but there’s something in the way. Gerard lets out a cold laugh. Maybe it comes down to how Frank just announced that he’s fucking dying, he thinks.

He wants to draw. It’s one of the initial instincts that he gets, and Gerard is faced with the urge to paint. It’s almost some kind of mechanism to cherish what he’s got until it’s gone - but his creative side seems to have dried out. This color isn’t going to last very long, but Gerard sighs. Color isn’t the issue. He doesn’t give a fuck about it any more. He’d trade red for a grayscale world and a safe Frank in a heartbeat.

But instead of doing anything, he just finds himself curled up on his bed. With his knees drawn to his chest, and vacant eyes blanking out into thin air - Gerard just hopes that no one walks in. He doesn’t need to be seen like this. Least of all by his brother, or even worse: Frank. Feeling numb, he bites down on his bottom lip and tries to let his mind drift elsewhere. He hasn’t drank recently, which is an achievement. He guesses it is anyway, even if his life is still falling apart. Maybe the alcohol could speed that up. It’s not as if he can keep on trying to escape the inevitable - this time... this time Gerard knows it’s for real. There’s nothing he can do to change it.

“This isn’t fair,” he mumbles quietly to himself. Squeezing his eyes shut, Gerard tries not to let anymore damned tears out. He’s already acting pathetic. Right now, he wouldn’t be feeling a damn thing if he’d been drinking. The way everything goes numb and he manages to forget, just for a few blissful hours - that is what he fell in love with. Being as emotionally traumatized as he is, it became addictive so easily. It doesn’t take much for him to work out that Frank has the exact same effect.

That’s when the anger returns. Gerard doesn’t know what he’s doing; he just does it. With a burst of adrenaline, he smashes his arm against the shelf beside his bed. Everything crashes onto both his sheets and the ground, pens and comic books scattering across the room. He bites down, trying to control himself. Only then, he sees an old relic.

After they’d returned from New York, Frank had the accident surrounding a certain glass bottle Gerard had thrown across the room. He’d completely forgotten about placing the bloody shards into a box, but now they’re staring him in the face. The thoughts in his head confuse him. Why is he mesmerized by the remnants of a bottle? He doesn’t know. Maybe it’s the dried, dark red blood that is still visible in the cracks. Maybe it’s how the light refracts against it, creating the illusion of beauty.

Something compells him to pick the largest shard up, and for a moment it’s nothing more than harmless speculation. But then, he folds his fingers around it and squeezes, feeling it dig into his skin and flesh. Gritting his teeth, he lets the pain wash through him and damn - it hurts. It hurts like a bitch but it simply doesn’t compare to how fucking angry, sad, guilty and pitiful he feels.

Blood trickles down his arm, and Gerard watches the red bead as if he’s seeing color for the first time. It’s entrancing, and he realizes that this might be the last time he’ll ever see it in this context. After that, Gerard suddenly feels like an idiot. He drops the shard, hissing as he reaches for an old shirt to pad the wound. Fuck - how could he be so stupid?

An answer to that question doesn’t come, and he continues to curse as he climbs from his bed, and rushes upstairs to the bathroom. He charges past his mother on the way, but ignores her as he locks himself inside and runs the tap water. “Fuck,” he breathes, regret already filling his voice as he stares at the blood dripping onto the bathroom tiles. Refusing to hesitate, he plunges his entire arm beneath the stream of water, and uses his other to reach into the cabinet for some aspirin. After taking the painkillers, he finds himself trying not to panic.

“Gerard?” His mom pounds on the door. He scrubs at his skin, trying to get rid of the never ending red. “Gerard, it’s four in the morning. What the fuck are you doing in there?”

“I’m taking a shower!” he yells backwards, fully aware that she most likely won’t fall for his bullshit. The cut is deep, and Gerard can tell that it’s not going to stop bleeding any time soon. He goes back into the cabinet and pulls out a bandage. After drying his hand and wrapping it up, he swiftly takes a flannel to wipe up any excess blood from the floor.

His mother is still lurking. “Well you’ve woken the entire house up,” she tells him. “You couldn’t be more quiet, could you?”

Just after she says this, Gerard manages to knock a bottle of shampoo over. “Dammit,” he grunts, quickly diving after it. “Mom, I’ll just be a minute,” he raises his voice. Glancing back at the sink, he runs a hand through his hair and realizes that he’s not quite done yet. The tap is still running. He sticks his uninjured hand under the water, before rubbing it into his hair. Once he looks appropriately just-showered, he yells something about putting his clothes on. He waits another moment and then slips out of the room. “Hey,” he mumbles, trying not to appear shifty as his mother glares at him. 

“You still smell like crap,” she shakes her head, then turns away. “Use soap for goodness sake.”

After that, she disappears back into her room. Gerard takes a minute to breathe. He glances down at his hand, noticing that his blood has already soaked through the bandage. Dammit - he should really go to a hospital and get stitched up, but that’s something he’d simply rather not go through. As he contemplates this, he doesn’t notice Frank slip out of Mikey’s bedroom. “Are you okay?” he asks in a gentle voice.

Gerard jerks, hiding his hand behind his back as he panics. “Yeah,” he is quick to insist. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Frank doesn’t look so sure. “You’re bleeding,” he points out, glancing down at the floor. Gerard follows his gaze, noticing that his blood has already managed to drip onto the carpet. He moves to stand over the small drop of red.

“It’s okay,” Gerard mumbles. “It’s just - I cut myself by accident.”

The brunette tilts his head, trying to see the injured hand. “Oh...” is all he has to say.

Gerard nods, then casts his eyes to the stairwell that leads down to his room. Escape is but a few metres away. “I... goodnight, Frank,” he quickly says, not sparing a second glance at the boy before walking right past him. He can feel Frank’s eyes on his back, and the sooner he closes his bedroom door behind him, the better.

A sigh of relief is lifted from his lips, but he grimaces at the state of his drawing hand. Not only does that bother him, but also Frank. 

Gerard needs to do something about this.


	31. CHAPTER THIRTY ONE - LET’S LEARN TO LAUGH AT OURSELVES AGAIN.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guys, we only have about 6 chapters left, including this one
> 
> i feel sad

Clearly, Gerard couldn’t avoid him forever.

It eventually came down to his mom, insisting that they both go to the grocery store together. He’d initially just raised an eyebrow, wondering why the fuck they’d both need to go and why one of them wasn’t enough. After some stern gazes and a quick scolding, he quickly learned that his mother isn’t a complete idiot. Apparently, he and Frank have ‘issues that need fixing’. Gerard just wishes she knew the truth. Maybe then she’d see that it’s a little more than a fucking issue between them.

No words are spoken during the car ride, and it takes a while for Gerard to feel comfortable with him sat just a few inches to his right. It looks as if Frank could be taking this the wrong way - appearing guilty at the idea of making Gerard feel like this. If the entire situation was on a lesser scale, then yes, Gerard would be pissed. However, the circumstances aren’t exactly fitting for him to be the one who is angry. It should be Frank who is ignoring him, not the other way around.

Frank also keeps staring at Gerard’s hand. After he’d sliced it open, Gerard had quickly taken to wearing a bandage under a glove to hide the wound, but Frank has already seen it, and he’s not stupid. There are a few moments in the car that Gerard thinks he’ll bring it up, or worse - ask him to get it checked out at a hospital. Luckily enough, he keeps his mouth shut, which makes things easier for both of them.

It’s only once they’re inside, that Frank decides to finally speak up. “Are we going to talk about it?” he asks. Gerard throws a bag of pasta into the large shopping trolley.

He feels temptation tug at him. “No.”

“Why not?”

Frank quickens his pace slightly, trying to keep up with Gerard as he scours each aisle. He keeps staring at him, demanding for an answer as he waits for the pressure to spill over. “We’re in a supermarket,” he eventually says. “Frank we are not talking about this while we’re in a fucking supermarket.”

He goes quiet for a little while. Gerard takes the lead, winding around the building as Frank silently helps him collect each item they’d been sent to buy. After about fifteen minutes, it appears that they are nearly finished. 

They pass through the frozen section, both of them shivering slightly as Gerard digs out a cheaper version of the fancy ice cream his mother had asked for. “We have to discuss this at some point,” Frank points out, sounding slightly nervous. He hates talking about this just as much as Gerard does. “And right this minute seems fitting as I know that once we’re home, you’ll only lock yourself back in your room and refuse to let me see you.”

Gerard closes his eyes for a second, wondering if that is true. It’s what he wants, but he knows that it’ll do nothing but worsen the situation - and he had made somewhat of a promise to himself saying that he would try to fix this. However, now is not the right time for talking. “Frank, I’m slightly distracted at the moment,” he says, hoping to stall for a little longer. He feels like a fucking coward.

“Ice cream,” Frank murmurs, glancing down at the list in his hands. “That was the last we needed. We can go home now.” 

Gerard mumbles an agreement, throwing in a few bags of potato chips as he starts heading back the way they came. They push their way through to a till, before stacking each of the items onto the payment thing that Gerard doesn’t know the name of. After the quick scan of a credit card, they bag their things up and head back outside. Frank gives him a nudge, as if to remind him to speak. “Just wait a Goddamned minute,” Gerard grumbles. “My hands are full.”

Frank helps him pack everything away into the boot of the car, then they both get inside. Silence at first, before the younger of the two looks at his partner. The atmosphere immediantly turns dark. “Gerard, I’m going to die.” He gets straight to the point.

Gerard starts the engine, and pulls out of the parking lot. As he drives, Frank sits beside him, waiting for a response. Eventually, he has to give one. “No you’re not,” he says. His tone is unconvinced, even if he tries to believe what he’s saying. 

“But I-”

“Frank, you are not fucking dying,” Gerard growls, sparing him a quick glance. He’s unaware of where the sudden denial is coming from, but he stays with it. “Just shut up, you - you don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

The brunette looks down, hurt in his eyes. “You don’t believe me,” he mumbles. Gerard purses his lips, not knowing what to say. It’s not that he doesn’t believe Frank - it’s just that he wants to pretend that none of this is happening. It all feels so surreal, and so fucking unfair. Why should either of them have to go through this?

“I just want you to be okay,” Gerard says. His voice has a hint of sadness, and he feels his heart sinking. “That’s it. I just want it all to work out.”

“But it’s not going to,” Frank reluctantly has to inform him. “There’s nothing that can stop this.”

Gerard swallows, shaking his head as he refuses to take no for an answer. He keeps driving. “Frank, there are solutions to things like this.” He glances to his right. “That’s if it’s even happening. You - you probably just googled something about a headache and now you think that you’re about to choke on a haemorrhoid or something - Frank you’re not going anywhere.”

“You’re not listening to me,” the younger boy raises his voice, glaring at Gerard.

“Well then, do you wanna tell me what the fuck happened?” he snaps. “You told me nothing went off in New York - so how come you’re suddenly convinced that you’re...” his voice trails off, his sentence dying before he can say that very same word. “Frank, you told me that nothing happened.”

Frank nods. “And I was telling the truth.”

The truth, Gerard thinks. He’s lied so much that he can’t even tell if Frank is being honest anymore. He’d been convinced that something had happened - something horrible. His mind had jumped to the worst possible conclusions, and Gerard had been fucking terrified; sleepless over it. Yet Frank had always insisted that ‘nothing happened’. Essentially, this had only worried him even more for weeks. Why should that change now? Frank is telling him something so fucking serious, something so important - yet he still won’t come clean about what happened in that damned city. 

“So why the fuck are you telling me any of this?” Gerard comes out of his moment of thought, even more confused than before. He finds himself almost angry that Frank would continue to stick through with his story - but decides that he should hear him out. They’re passing through a secluded lane, and he slowly pulls over onto the grass. He turns to face Frank, giving him his undivided attention. “Why?”

There’s a moment of silence, before Frank speaks again. “Because nothing happened, Gerard. Nothing.” His voice is a low growl. “I tried and failed to find out who I was, and that was it. I entered a brothel, and then you found me. It was all so stupid - I understand that now, but nothing happened.”

Gerard leans in, eyebrows still knotted together. “Then are you telling me otherwise?” he asks. He doesn’t know if he should sound angry. He just feels terrible, wishing it could all disappear.

“Because it happened before,” Frank explains. “Before all of this - Gerard, you met me in a hospital. There was a reason I was in that place.”

Gerard blinks, frown deepening. His mind flashes back to one of his most vivid memories, color and light blinding his vision as he stumbled after doctors, demanding to know if he’d just killed a man or not. That night had been a living hell for him. “What are you saying?”

Frank inhales a deep breath. “I’m saying that it wasn’t New York. It was the accident, and I’ve... I’ve been lying to you.” His eyes catch Gerard’s, filled with sincerity. “I came to you because I didn’t want to die in there.”

It takes a few moments to process what he’s being told, and when it does - Gerard realizes what this means.

It hits him hard. He suddenly feels sick, eyes widening as he stares at Frank in disbelief. He’d never even considered this - how could he have been so blind? Disgust fills his stomach, and he finds himself unable to speak. This is all his fault. He put Frank in that hospital. He drank that night, he tried to drive and he’s the one who fucking hit him. His breathing hitches, and he swallows down the growing lump in his throat. “Is this something that the doctors told you?” he dares to ask, voice weak and broken.

“They said I had a few months,” Frank mumbles. “Longer if I had treatment.”

The first thing that happens are the tears. Gerard starts crying, and he’s not entirely sure why. Frank is confused by this, and he frowns as he leans forward in attempt to console him. “Frank, you don’t get it,” Gerard chokes out. The younger boy rests a hand on his arm, before he pulls him over into a tight embrace. He rubs his back, holding him close as if it will magically make everything go away. Gerard draws in a shaky breath, feeling more hot tears spilling down his cheeks. “This is all my fault,” he whispers.

“No it’s not,” Frank reassures him. “I lied to you - I should have told you the truth from the beginning. It wasn’t anything to do with New York - it’s not your fault. It was the car accident.”

Gerard pulls away. He wraps his own arms around himself, unable to take Frank’s comfort any longer. The younger boy tries to move forward, but Gerard shakes his head. He stays back. “Frank, you really don’t fucking get it,” Gerard says, loathe for himself in his voice. He looks up, and Frank’s scared brown eyes are what tip him over the edge. “I was the one driving that car.”


	32. CHAPTER THIRTY TWO - MY SMILE IS A WASTELAND.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear badmcrfics: fuck off.

“I don’t care.”

Each word falls from Frank’s lips with a heavy weight on them, almost as if he’d thought this through beforehand. Gerard stares, but is unable to quite reach his gaze as a thick silence settles over them. “How can you say that?” he asks as resentment fills his tone. Frank moves over, and Gerard’s first instinct is to back away. However, he’s already pressed right up against the door of his car and there’s no where to go.

Frank’s expression grows solemn. “I’m dying,” he murmurs.

“And it’s my fault,” Gerard insists, unsure of what is going on. “Frank, I fucked up that night. Why do you think I stopped drinking? Why do you think I can barely look you in the fucking eye sometimes?” He leans forward, desperation in his voice.

“When you know that you’re going to die in a few months...” Frank begins, slowly but in a firm tone. “... You learn how to know what’s important,” he says. “You’re important to me, not what you did.”

Gerard shakes his head. He doesn’t understand. “Why don’t you fucking hate me?” he asks, confused beyond measure.

“Because you’re my friend,” Frank says, not a hint uncertainty in his voice. “Gerard, I really wouldn’t be here if I believed you were a bad person.”

That’s what Gerard just doesn’t understand. He breathes in, frown deepening as he finds thought for what to say. “I killed you,” he eventually murmurs, horrified. “Frank - I’ve fucking killed you-”

“I’m not dead yet,” Frank cuts him off almost playfully. But Gerard is still in far too much shock to notice anything, blanking out as he tries to make sense of the situation inside of his own head. Frank sees this, and takes his hand. “Hey,” he says, and tries to capture his gaze. “It’s gonna be okay. Gerard - please. I need you.”

Gerard blinks, slowly at first as he searches Frank’s eyes for hesitation. He finds nothing. “What to do we do?” he asks in a small voice.

Frank smiles, and that’s the very moment Gerard realizes just how much he has changed. This isn’t the same kid he met in a hospital - this is someone entirely different. “We don’t have to do anything at all,” Frank tells him. “There’s nothing we can do.”

It hurts. Gerard can think back to a time when he almost didn’t care about the boy sat before him. He had his precious colors, and that was all that he had ever aimed for in life. Yet, all he tells himself these days is that he doesn’t even want them anymore. He wishes that he’d never seen them in the first place; that he’d simply met Frank like any other normal person would meet someone. At the coffee shop, or while trying to find a CD at a record store. But instead of Gerard’s life becoming a comfortable, romantic cliché - it became a horrible mess of twisted irony. Everything eventually came back to bite him in the ass, and here it is.

“I’m sorry,” is all that he can think to say.

Frank squeezes his hand, before helping him back into his seat properly. “Are we going home?” he asks, and Gerard nods. He starts driving again. Feeling dazed, it becomes apparent that something has happened by the time they’re back at the house. Gerard’s eyes are still puffy and red, and that’s the first thing his mother notices when he steps through the door.

She frowns, stepping forward to look at his face, but he just walks right past her. “Gerard?” she calls, but is ignored. Frank lingers by the door, and Donna turns to him instead. He explains some bullshit story, covering for him as he heads to the bathroom. 

The door closes behind him and he’s alone. “Fuck...” he murmurs under his breath, leaning over the basin. “Fuck.” He lifts a clenched fist, staring at his reflection for a moment before stopping. His hand falls to his side, and he shakes his head. This isn’t fair - this isn’t how he needs to be acting. After fucking up so many times along the way, he can’t fuck up now. There’s just no room for it. Trying to clear his mind, Gerard runs the tap water and splashes it against his face. The cold shock to his skin doesn’t seem to help him think, but he feels his body relax as he tries to calm himself.

It takes some adjusting. All of this - it’s just been too much. He can’t just smile and ignore everything any longer. He needs to do something; he needs to be something but useless for once in his life. Frank said that he needed him, that he just wanted everything to be okay while it still can be. But Gerard simply doesn’t understand how he can feel that way. So calm and collected. So neutral. It just doesn’t make any sense, and it only drives his confusion and anger.

Just how is he supposed to cope with this? How does he learn to to fucking accept it? He finds his internal thoughts filled with bitterness; resentment towards himself. A feeling of dread knots itself into his stomach, but he tries to bite it back. He looks up into the mirror, catching his own hardened gaze. For a few moments, he does nothing but stare at himself - lost in a brief few seconds of thought. When he pulls himself back out of it, he swallows hard before leaving the room.

As he walks down to his basement, Gerard makes a series of small decisions in his head. None of them include anything ground breaking, and he’s not exactly hell bent on doing anything crazy. No, Gerard only wants to feel anything but fucking miserable for once. He just doesn’t know how, but he still has to try.

He immediantly spots Frank, who is perched on the edge of his bed playing guitar. Gerard stands at the door, listening for a few moments before he dares to interrupt. The song is a gentle melody. It reminds Gerard of a lullaby, or the soft interlude left behind on an old record. When he stops playing, Frank places the guitar to his left and turns around, almost as if he can sense Gerard’s presence. Maybe it’s that in-built color GPS Gerard had theorised. The atmosphere immediantly changes, becoming almost calm and soothing. The older boy smiles sadly, giving him a nod of appreciation. “Did you write that?” he asks quietly, moving forward.

Frank swallows, and Gerard follows the movement with his eyes. “Yeah,” he murmurs in a slightly cracked voice. “Are you feeling better?”

Gerard sits down, and his hand finds Frank’s almost immediantly. “I’m fine - it’s just... a lot to take in,” he tries to explain, looking down the stained fabric they’re both seated on.

“I don’t like to think about it,” Frank admits. Gerard stiffens slightly, wondering just who would like to think about their inevitable doom. “It’s almost... terrifying. It’s why I can’t sleep.” Frank then sighs, and a small chuckle drifts from his lips. “I’m always scared you’ll wake up and I’ll be dead.”

“Don’t say that,” Gerard tells him. 

Frank closes his eyes, and he smiles to himself before opening them to look back at his partner. “Can I kiss you again?” he asks, sending butterflies straight into Gerard’s stomach. It’s as if the younger boy thinks he needs permission - as if they’ve already fucked up their relationship and now he’s unsure of where they stand.

Gerard was almost sure that everything would already be in the gutter. 

But he gives him the slight tilt of his head, closing his own eyes as he swallows hard. His breathing hitches as he leans forward, before he kisses Frank softly on the lips. Straight away, he feels the younger boy melt beneath him as they fall backwards, both of them not entirely certain of what they’re doing. Frank lets his hands slide beneath Gerard’s shirt, feeling at his waist and hip bones with an intimate curiosity. The movement makes Gerard shiver, trembling slightly beneath his touch as he kisses him harder.

Gerard breaks away to cover Frank’s jaw and throat, making him arch his back slightly as he mumbles something incoherent that Gerard can’t distinguish. Fuck - he doesn’t know if he wants this or not. He likes it, yes - fully aware of Frank’s hand scraping down his torso, but he feels wrong. When Frank starts to tease around his waistband, that’s when Gerard retreats.

“Gerard?” Frank asks with a frown, confusion and worry filling his face. The older boy shuffles away from him. “Did I do something wrong?” He looks nervous.

“No,” Gerard sighs, letting his shoulders slump. “I-I... just can’t.”

Frank moves over, still clinging onto him as he burrows his face into the crook of Gerard’s neck. “It’s okay,” he says, trying to be a comfort. 

Gerard doesn’t really know what to say, think or do. He almost feels as if he’s not there. It’s like he’s just watching all of this happen, useless to do anything but feebly scrape along. “Frank, I feel like shit,” Gerard says, glancing up at him. “I just feel like shit. All the time. There’s nothing I can fucking do about it and now.... now I know that it’s never going to get better.”

The younger boy blinks as he turns his gaze to the ground. “I’m sorry, I-”

“No, it’s not your fault,” insists Gerard, his tone picking up a slice of aggression. “You don’t get it.” He sighs.

Frank looks up, quickly capturing his gaze. “Is there anything I can do?”

“No,” laughs Gerard. “Unless you magically fucking recover, then no. I’ve felt like this my entire life and now I know that it only gets worse.” He begins to feel tears stabbing at his eyes again, and he wipes at them angrily with the back of his sleeve. “I used to tell myself that it’d get better - that one day I’d feel happy and well - look at what I’ve done. I fucked my life and I fucked up yours along the way.”

Silence passes between them, Frank struggling to find the right words. “It’s not your fault,” he lies, and Gerard can hear the pain behind his forced words.

“Don’t even bother,” Gerard grunts. He shakes his head, gritting his teeth. “Frank, I’m just a fucking mess, okay? Don’t you understand? I fuck everything up. Everything.”

“I don’t understand,” Frank mumbles, still confused at Gerard’s sudden tearful outburst.

Gerard closes his eyes for only a quick second, before staring straight into Frank’s as he feels his chest burn. “I’m saying that my life has been nothing but a pile of shit,” he tells him. More tears spill down his cheeks. “I wanted to die for a good two years... and then you came along, and I thought I’d fixed everything, Frank. I thought it was finally over.” He shakes his head, dropping his gaze. “Of course, I was wrong...” he trails off, the words disappearing on his lips.

“I don’t want you to be upset,” Frank murmurs, pulling him over to lean against. He runs his fingers through his greasy black hair, trying to calm him down for the second time in one day.

Gerard swallows, throat burning. He feels Frank shake against him as he coughs, lifting a hand to cover his mouth. “I hate this,” he mumbles.

“Me too,” Frank whispers. “Me too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sighs, i'm sorry about the wait - i've had a lot to think about. there's been a lot of struggle with me and writing recently, and i was almost tempted to announce that i'd be discontinuing this fic. however, with a full chapter ready to go, i thought fuck it, i might as well just finish the damn thing. anyway, the main point og this little essay here is - i'm really scared that i've fucked this up. see, i had something different planned for these few chapters that you're reading now, but i decided against what i'd plotted out, and so i'm kind of stuck in limbo, i guess. i'm uncertain of what to write, or what will happen until the end. the ending i do have sorted, it's just until i get there that i'm stuck.
> 
> so i need your help and opinions again. after reading through the first few chapters of this fic the other night, i found myself cringing a whole lot. i really didn't like what i was reading, but i don't know. there's nothing i can do about that now. what i'm more interested in is what is happening right now. i'd like to know what you guys think, and what you want to happen so i can decide where to take this, or if i should just cut it short and get to the ending as soon as possible. i guess you could say that i'm attatched to this story and i don't want it to end, and maybe that's why writing at the moment is a pain in the ass, as each chapter means i'm getting closer to writing 'the end' on the last page.
> 
> so what i mean is, with this little amount of time for the fic left (if you've not already lost interest in what i have to say) i want to get it perfect and i want to satisfy whoever the fuck is still reading this. so give me your thoughts, and i'd really appreciate it. remember that i do have an ending planned out, and i know exactly what will happen - i just need to figure out how i get there.
> 
> xofeb


	33. CHAPTER THIRTY THREE - THE THINGS THAT YOU SAY HURT ME MOST OF THE TIME.

Mikey leans forwards, shirt straining against his chest as he reaches for the pizza. His fingers curl around the greasy crust, before he snaps back against the sofa and takes a huge mouthful, expression filled with pure ecstasy. Gerard doesn’t take any notice of his slightly strange behaviour. It’s been too long since they’d both sat down with a take-out and cheap horror flicks, and where Gerard had been hesitant to let his brother in, they also both seem to be enjoying themselves. The pizza is great, too. “Man, oh man,” Mikey moans, eyes almost rolling into the back of his head as he savours the taste. Gerard averts his eyes, snorting at his brother as he looks the other way. “This is sex.”

Gerard tilts his head back in his brother’s direction, a sad smile resting on his lips. “Good as Kristin?” he asks, trying to keep the mood light.

It works. Mikey lets out a round of laughter, smirking through a disgusting mouthful of food. “That,” he starts, shaking his head. “Is for me to know.”

“Jesus, Mikey. Wipe your Goddamned face,” Gerard is quick to insist. They’re both used to seeing the worst sides of each other, but melted cheese stuck to his little brother’s chin is just too much for Gerard these days. He’s got enough to worry about without having to feel nauseated all of the time.

Reluctantly, but to Gerard’s delight - Mikey lifts a hand and wipes his face clean. “No, but really dude. Fucking pizza,” he says as he then smudges his dirty fingers against the sofa. “I don’t think you get it. Kristin is super posh like... like what the fuck - she doesn’t even eat pizza. She eats like salads and shit. It’s killing me.” His hand gestures pretty much clarify everything he just said.

“You’ll never survive on salad,” Gerard murmurs, starting to detach from the conversation slightly. He points at Mikey’s stomach. “You’re just a tall pile of bones. You need man food.”

Mikey rolls his eyes, but then turns quiet. He draws in a deep breath, chewing his lip for thought. “Mom told me you’ve barely been eating,” he then says, voice quiet. The rarely seen bright atmosphere suddenly collapses, quickly replaced by something darker. He throws a glance at the pizza. “Half the box is gone, and you haven’t touched it.”

“I’m just not hungry,” Gerard waves it off. He’s suddenly living his high school days all over again, feeling sick to his gut. That weight loss hadn’t just magically been blessed upon him all those years ago. He reaches Mikey’s gaze, shaking his head as he forces a laugh. “Look, it’s nothing. Fuck’s sake, Mikey,” he punches his brothers arm playfully. “Quit worrying about me.”

The amount of bullshit falling out of his mouth right now makes him feel like crap.

“Whatever,” Mikey says. He can’t be bothered arguing about this again. “How’s Frank?” he asks, changing the subject.

Gerard blinks, and then sighs. Talking about Frank is something he’d rather avoid. “Fine,” he answers, reaching for his coffee. “He’s in my room at the moment. Probably playing guitar or something.”

“You ah...” Mikey trails off. He looks down. “You gonna tell mom?”

“Tell mom what?” Gerard asks, leaning forward.

Mikey clears his throat. “You’re still... together, right?” Gerard nods. “Well, you should maybe tell her.”

A sigh, and a sip of coffee. Gerard throws his head back and stares at the ceiling. “I will when we’re ready,” he says.

But that’s not good enough. “Dude, you gotta stop this,” Mikey says, calling bullshit. Gerard frowns, but doesn’t get a chance to inquire. “You need to stop lying.”

“About what?” Gerard snaps, feeling slightly aggressive. He doesn’t want to admit it - but he knows exactly what Mikey is talking about.

“Well,” his little brother starts. “Want me to write a list first? Let’s see, well first you won’t tell Frank about his mo-”

“Shut up,” Gerard hisses, annoyed at the bringing up of this particular subject. “I thought you’d finally fucking stopped with that, Jesus...”

“Don’t-” Mikey flicks him. “Don’t ‘Jesus’ me, I’m just trying to help.”

Gerard closes his eyes. “Well stop,” he says. “Not now, Mikey. Okay?” He turns his face away, and purses his lips. “I don’t feel too good.”

“What do you...?” Mikey then seems to be overwhelmed with a small burst of confusion. Instead of pressing further, he stops and thinks for a moment. He knows Gerard better than anyone, and he knows how to deal with this. Putting those years of being a fourteen year old kid looking after his big brother to use, he scoots over. “What’s wrong?”

But Gerard doesn’t wanna talk, and Mikey knows that he’s being locked out. He’d said something - something bad and now he’s upset him. Gerard squeezes his eyes shut, leaving his little brother even more confused. When the tears appear, Mikey begins to panic.

Gerard seems to have developed a talent for crying recently. It seems to be all he does. Cry in his bed, cry in the bathroom, cry in someone’s arms - it’s all the same. To some extent, it helps. He’s getting it all out of his system in a somewhat Tyler kind of way, but it makes him feel pathetic. Maybe he should start an underground boxing ring. Maybe he should stop looking to his favourite movies for advice.

So, he ends up sobbing on his little brother’s shoulder and doesn’t bother with an explanation. It really does feel like their teenage years. And the years after that. And well, all the years leading up to now. They’ve always had this ‘bond’, and maybe they are a little too close sometimes but it works for them, and that’s all that matters. The Way Brothers. Ha. It’s a little late, but they got it in high school. The Gay Brothers.

Or in Gerard’s perspective, soon to become The Gray Brothers.

That piece of badly worded internal monologue doesn’t do much for Mikey’s already soggy shirt. Gerard is a mess. The obvious questions arise in his mind - should he tell Mikey about Frank’s predicament? Of course not. Gerard fell into this wreck with a lie, and there’s no fucking point in changing that now. He doesn’t want any more drama when all they have left could be a matter of weeks. He just wants it to be quiet and peaceful. He just wants to get through it in one piece.

That in turn, makes Gerard consider what comes after. He hasn’t really though about it. There’ll be gray, and he’ll be lonely. But what else? Nothing. Gerard doesn’t have a fucking clue what he’s supposed to do when this is all over. Chances are he’ll probably just curl up into this same ball of depression, just waiting to die. Other chances include Mikey returning the favour of getting him through it. Gerard feels sick at the idea, not wanting anything at all.

Gerard eventually manages to pull himself together. Still slightly puffy eyed and snot nosed, he feels terrible, but it’s better than being a mess. He discusses music and comics with his brother, aware that it isn’t much more than a plot to cheer him up. However, it works and Gerard tries to keep himself functioning even if it’s just so that he doesn’t worry Mikey any further. The younger of the two starts to complain about certain aspects of his girlfriend, making Gerard chuckle even if it’s evident that he still loves her. She just tends to prefer chick flicks and girly things to blood, gore and murder documentaries.

From what Gerard has gathered, she’s pretty much the polar opposite of Alicia. It makes sense in a weird kind of way, and he can understand why Mikey would be interested her. She’s good for him. This makes Gerard happy, because at least one of them gets to have something. “She hates zombie films,” Mikey goes on to moan, catching Gerard’s attention again as he rants. “She made me go to the cinema the other day. Guess what we watched?” Gerard simply raises an eyebrow. Mikey sighs, shaking his head. “The Fault in our Fucking Stars. Dude, I just wanted to stay home and watch Clockwork Orange.”

Gerard forces another laugh, knowing that the older film is one that they both love. He can’t quite say the same for the other that Mikey mentioned, and that’s not even scraping on how it goes against everything they dream of in a good film. No, Gerard doesn’t even have to think about it. It’s just obvious, and it hurts.

But he keeps his game up and only a few minutes before Mikey announces that he’ll be leaving, Frank appears. The small brunette lingers by the door, waiting to be noticed for a short moment. Mikey sees him first, and nudges Gerard sharp in the ribs. “Frank,” Gerard suddenly gasps, glancing up as he ignores the pain in his chest. “You okay?”

“I wanted to say hello to Mikey,” he announces, nodding as his eyes drift to the younger brother.

Mikey smiles, jumping up as he pulls on Gerard’s hand. “You look good,” he says, and everyone in the room knows that it’s a lie. Any color that Frank’s pale face had before is gone, and a set of dark circles rest around his eyes. But, he remains cheerful and well - Gerard just doesn’t know how the fuck he does it. He and Mikey share a quick hug, and there’s even some brotherly hair messing and a light punch to the shoulder. After that is out of the way, Mikey lingers around as Frank steps forward to smile at Gerard. He moves closer, taking his hand before pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

“I assume Mikey is now aware of our relationship?” he asks, voice a whisper as they lose themselves in each other’s eyes. Blushing, Gerard glances at his brother, noticing his trademarked awkward position as he tries not to stare. It brings a light chuckle to his lips.

“Yeah, yeah,” he murmurs, before kissing him again. They break apart, fingers still loosely interviewed as Gerard turns to say goodbye to his brother.

“That was really fucking gay,” Mikey remarks, smirking as they walk to the door. “But it was cute. You guys are good for each other.”

And cue the pulling of Gerard heartstrings. No, scratch that. Cue the tearing out of Gerard’s heart in general. He smiles sadly again, unsure if anything even meets his eyes anymore. No more words are passed between them, but Gerard can see it in his eyes. They are brothers after all, and they’re both pretty good at reading each other. Mikey gives him a curt nod, then leaves. Gerard closes the door behind him, eyes closed as he breathes, wondering just how the fuck he’s supposed to clean this entire mess up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> long story short, i watched fight club again and felt inspired to write. i hope you all enjoyed.
> 
> xofeb


	34. CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR - TODAY I FELL AND FELT BETTER.

“I don’t... understand.”

Across the room, Frank is sat frowning at Gerard. His eyebrows are pinched together, and his chalk-pale skin is almost deathly, creating a stark contrast between his face and dark ruffled hair. With eyes shadowed as if to reflect the world outside, he continues to stare, waiting anxiously for Gerard to explain himself. Immediantly, the older man regrets this. He knows that this wasn’t a good idea.

So he casts his gaze to the window. Gerard never had the intention to put himself in this situation, yet here he is. It’s always been there, he supposes. The lingering blackness of everything he’s made up, and everything he’s been hiding from his family. This moment would have to come around eventually, and Frank is... dying. Gerard simply can’t keep something so important to himself. Not now. Not after all the bullshit they’d been through since that god-awful mess in New York. “Mikey said he’d kick my ass if I didn’t tell you,” Gerard explains softly, a familiar damp sadness lining his tone. His eyes drift away from the window, trailing across the room before he brings himself to look at Frank again. “I... it’s complicated. Frank - I should have told you.”

Frank goes quiet. He wasn’t saying anything to begin with, but his very being seems to shrink away as if he’s disappearing. There isn’t much he can think to say, but the clear question plagues his mind. “My mother doesn’t know that I’m dying,” he says, breaking out of his shell if even for a moment. The words seem unreal coming from his lips. Gerard doesn’t even process them anymore. 

“I’m sorry,” is all that Gerard has to say for himself. “Frank, I’m so sorry... I...”

He can’t think of any words to express how he feels. How had they even gotten here in the first place? None of it feels like reality. Gerard’s entire life has never felt like reality.

The atmosphere is dull, which is only to be expected given the circumstances. They both remain uncomfortable for a few moments, and Gerard is perfectly aware of the listening ear outside the door. Mikey didn’t say that he’d be eavesdropping, and where Frank is naive, Gerard certainly is not. He lets a loud sigh drift from his tired lips, before he looks back up to Frank. Gerard tries to give him even the smallest of pained, wry smiles - but finds it impossible. He looks down at his feet.

 

Frank stares, refusing to drop his gaze as he leans forward in the old, beaten up arm chair. He clears his throat awkwardly, parting his lips as he tries to ease himself back into speaking. “I should see her,” he murmurs, voice not raising above much of whisper. Gerard doesn’t look back up, but he closes his eyes and nods. Frank breathes in, and both of them can hear the unsettling disappointment riding on his breath. “It’s okay,” he says, as if to simply change the situation with nothing more than a phrase.

Another shake of Gerard’s head, and the subtle tension increases. “No, Frank - it’s not okay.” Honesty seeps into his words. “I fucked you over. I don’t even know why.”

“People make mistakes,” Frank is quick to defend his friend from himself. “Gerard, I haven’t... been here very long... but I- I know who is the most important to me right now.” He swallows. “I told you I wanted things to be... “ the sound of his voice trails off, and he snatches his gaze to his feet, biting his lip. “Gerard I love you, and so I respect your decisions. Even if they were stupid. But I’m also sure that I love my family, and... I don’t wanna die not knowing who I grew up with.” Sadness takes over his very essence, before he snaps his head up and looks straight at Gerard with a thin smile. “But you should have told me.”

“I know.” Gerard hangs his head. “It was stupid. I - I thought you’d I don’t know... run away, I don’t know what it was just - Frank, I’m a fucking idiot.”

Frank leaps up, instantly shaking his head as he travels to Gerard’s seat. “No,” his voice is a low growl, but soothing and pleasing to the ear. He crouches on one knee, resting his hand over Gerard’s as he looks up at him. “You’re not not an idiot. It was simply irrationality - see, it was me who didn’t even understand what an internet is.”

A faint laugh almost escapes the older of the two. “You have amnesia,” he comments, tugging at Frank’s wrist to pull him up. “You have an excuse.”

Maybe Frank understands what he’s saying, but he doesn’t pay it any more attention. Leaning down, he loses himself for a second in Gerard’s hazel eyes, before closing his own and softly bringing their lips together. He moves away, and Gerard lets him go, seeming lost for a moment before re-aligning himself.

Leaving the room does in fact lead them to Mikey, who didn’t seem to be expecting things to be over so quickly. “Mikey,” Frank nods his head, and raises an eyebrow as they leave through the door. Gerard’s younger brother jumps at their sudden re-appearance, spilling his coffee as he jerks away from the wall he’d been leaning against.

“Frank,” he quickly nods back, trying to appear casual. Gerard just closes his eyes, before telling Frank to give them a moment.

Mikey immediantly moves forward, annoying in his brother’s face. “What did he say?” he asks, clearly unable to have picked up the quiet talk through the heavy oak door. “He didn’t freak, did he?”

“We’ll be having a field trip soon.” Gerard informs him, before they start walking back out into the hall. He spots Frank in the kitchen, fixing up two cups of coffee. “He just... Mikes, I feel like an ass. He only wants to see his mom before-” he swallows his next words down, hard. Quickly, he changes his tone. “I promised to drive him back to New York so he can clear things up. In the next few days, maybe tomorrow. You’re coming with.”

Mikey blinks. “Why?”

“Because I said so, Goddammit,” Gerard decides that he can’t tell his brother many of the details, so he waves him off and does his best to not act out of place. Mikey shrugs, gives him one obscene comment or another before going to his room, whereas Gerard follows the delicious smell of Frank’s decent attempt at creating heaven in a paint-stained coffee mug.

“I’ll never understand how you drink this black,” Frank comments, handing him the drink with a careful hand. He turns back to the side, dropping teaspoon after teaspoon of sugar into his own coffee. Gerard wrinkles his nose, cringing at the butchering of perfection. “It tastes like tree bark without sweeteners or milk.”

“Tree bark,” Gerard repeats, tilting his head forward. He fails to find humour in Frank’s strange comments, his mind still lingering on the current situation. Again, it doesn’t feel real. For the longest time, Gerard has felt as if he’s been living in some kind of hazy dream-world, occasionally falling into a nightmare over the past few weeks. He glances at Frank. So innocent and pure - an odd perfection in Gerard’s weary eyes. He smiles again; that same sad smile that he’s found to be his closest friend.

They part ways , and Gerard decides to be nostalgic and upset in the confinements of his own room. Frank mumbles something about watching his favourite film, and Gerard lingers outside the door for a moment until he hears the familiar beginning of Donnie Darko playing. He closes his eyes and swallows, before heading downstairs. “I find it kinda funny,” he sings in a barely audible murmur. “I find it kinda sad.” Gerard locks the door behind him, and sits down on the bed. “The dreams in which I’m dying are the best I’ve ever had.”

After singing those few lines, he laughs quietly to himself. Gerard slowly begins to accept what’s coming, even if it’s starting with him shedding a few tears. Maybe he’s ready, maybe he’s not. But the denial is gone. Frank is going to slip right through his fingertips, and Gerard isn’t going to let himself crumble. Not again. Not like he did with Lindsey, not like losing his grandma or even after witnessing the twin towers collapsing as a child. He’s going to be okay, even if it’s not guaranteed. 

Suddenly all those bottles of vodka and wasted nights feel pointless. He thought he’d been coping through drinking himself into oblivion, but now he realizes that he’d only been hiding. Another laugh shakes from him, and he can’t help but acknowledge how cliché after cliché is being thrown at him. It’s not like it matters. His story had never been one to tell, only one to keep bottled up inside like just about everything else.

Softly singing Mad World to himself, Gerard glances around the room. He’d like to cherish what he can see, but his entire world is bland. Black. White. Gray. Red. That pretty much concludes everything around his personal space. He’d have loved to see the ocean, or maybe he could have visited a dense forest. It’s all grimace-worthy sentimental value, but considering what is happening, Gerard has every reason to feel like this. Even with such color and vibrance in the world, he’d still committed to staying in his room. Wasted time, he supposes. But he still doesn’t feel the need to leave the house and see everything that he’s missed. 

It’s not like he’ll ever forget. Maybe blue, green and orange will slowly fade away, but that crimson red he’d first seen will forever stain the back of his mind. Foreshadowing, ha. Gerard shakes his head, wanting to sigh at the irony of everything he and Frank have lived through. It’s as if everything had been set up, destined to bring only twisted love and even more tragedy than they’d already had the misfortune of experiencing.

Gerard always thought that fate and destiny had been a pile of bullshit. It just so happens that he’d been the luckiest man alive while still managing to be the unluckiest at the same time. That’s probably more multi-tasking than he’d ever managed to pull off, and the result is going to be foul. But there is nothing he can do but finish these long monologues in his head. All he can do is think, drowning himself in unwanted emotions as he watches Frank from a distance.

He sighs - a common occurance in the Way household. Gerard isn’t sure how he feels about anything anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note to self: don't listen to Mad World on repeat for hours. It makes me cry.
> 
> Note to self 2: scrap the last one, do listen to Mad World on repeat for hours. I actually got some writing done while listening to it.


End file.
